Hazard to My Health
by Doctor Dave
Summary: Being at home monitored and under constant surveillance from the security teams had always annoyed her growing up. Now, with one more year at Yale to finish her degree, her mother insists she stay with her for the summer. Emily Prentiss, now stuck at her mother's estate is not lying down quietly. Meeting the Head of Security, she begins to think..maybe it won't be so bad. Slow burn
1. Chapter 1

_Hey! It's Doctor Dave and wanted to try a CM fic. This will be focusing on Prentiss and Hotch's budding relationship while he was head of Ambassador Prentiss' security, and Emily being home for a summer from Yale. Keep in mind, this is before the BAU, before they had a lot of their training... they still have a lot of things to learn along the way...Enjoy. :)_

_**Chapter 1: Wise Choice**_

Emily Prentiss let out an exaggerated sigh as she flopped on her king sized bed. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders and she stared at the mahogany paneled ceiling. She was supposed to meet her mother in the common room at 2:00 pm sharp, and was not very ecstatic about it. _A meeting to greet your own daughter? Seriously? _She looked at the clock. 2:07.

Her mother, Elizabeth Prentiss was a U.S. Ambassador currently in France. All of her life she had spent moving from country to country and living her life the way her mother ordered. Even while she was home for the summer from Yale, her mother still found ways to move her around, like a pawn in a chess game. Frankly, she had thought after she had graduated high school and proved she could be an adult in a prestigious college her mother would have learned to let her become her own woman...how foolish she was.

So, of course, every chance she got, she found a way to rebel. Today, was no exception. How could she piss off her mother today, she thought. She was in no mood to play the Ambassador's political games, so she sat up quickly, and decided to escape the confines of her room.

She looked around and smiled wickedly to herself. Her brown eyes caught the window and she hurried over to it. Someone would be coming by her room any minute to come drag her down to the meeting, and there was no way she was letting that happen.

She wrenched the french windows open and peered around. The mini balcony was only wide enough for one person to stand. Emily closed the window and swung her legs over the balcony and lowered herself carefully down to the nearest slope of shingles her feet could touch. Silently, she tiptoed around the corner and made her way to a tall lattice with ivy that had grown quite successfully for the past 2 years they had resided there. She carefully began descending down the lattice work.

Emily Prentiss had used this ivy many times to sneak out of the estate, and knew very well it would handle her weight. As she carefully made her way down, she paused every few feet to observe the ground below for anyone looking for her.

Her hands and feet were working systematically down the ivy when she heard a snap. Her hand felt the wood give, and felt her body teeter too far from the lattice.

"SHIIIIIIIIIT"

Her fingers brushed against a few leaves when she found they were clawing at nothing and she was falling the rest of the way down. Emily gasped and prepared for the hard landing.

"Ooof!"

She felt her back collide with the ground, and the breath was knocked out of her.Emily gasped for breath and opened her eyes. Twigs and wood trickled down from above, and she slowly sat up spitting leaves out of her mouth. _That was graceful, _she thought.

All of a sudden she felt the ground moving, and an angry groan emit from below her. Emily's eyes widened to see a man underneath her, and she was unceremoniously thrown aside.

The young man huffed and stood, not bothering to help Emily up, and furrowed his eyebrows. The glare he sent her would have been intimidating, if he wasn't brushing blades of grass, and twig's off of his suit. He seemed to quickly gather his stoic composure and arched an eyebrow. "Is there a reason why you're skulking around the roof, instead of using doors like normal people?"

Emily stood quickly, brushing herself off as well, and fixed her hair into some sort of presentable fashion, missing a few strands sticking out ridiculously from her head. She glared back.

"I don't have to explain myself to you." She stated simply, but immediately cringed inwardly when she realized how immature that sounded. Ignoring her last comment, she tried salvaging her image.

"But since I know you agents are always so _nosey_..." She said slowly, looking up from where she fell. Her eyes quickly searched the roof for a plausible answer, "I was...checking the integrity of the roof."

His facial expression remained unchanged, and his eyes bore into her. Her composure was starting to crumble. _You are getting your criminal justice degree ,damnit, Emily. Do not show weakness..._She slowly took a deep breath and met his gaze, staring him down. After a minute, she began to sweat, and a lump developed in her throat. _Fuck...deflect!_

"Why were _you_ out here in the garden? I've never seen you here before, and the Ambassador rarely changes out her security team."

Getting a better look at him, he was younger than the other men that were part of the security team. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and his dark hair was short, with a few bangs falling down above his dark eyes. Most importantly, she noted, it seemed like his sense of humor rivaled a potted plant's.

"I'm Special Agent Hotchner, head of Ambassador Prentiss' security detail." He stated matter-of-factly.

Emily scoffed. "Head of security? Your joking, right?" She snorted, and waited for his expression to change, until after a few long uncomfortable minutes...it didn't.

"O-oh..." She stammered, "Seriously?"

"I believe you have a meeting with the Ambassador..." He said, his jaw clenching.

Emily's cheeks grew hot. What was she doing? She wasn't even back home for 20 minutes, and she was already making a fool out of herself. She should have just gone to the stupid meeting. She brushed some dirt off of her pants, and plucked a twig from her hair, until she felt her cheeks quit burning "Yes. Yes, I do."

She straightened her white blouse and quickly walked past him toward the main entrance, saving what little self-dignity she had left while the agent followed close behind. She grew annoyed when she heard him trailing behind her, but ignored him. She probably wouldn't see him again anyway...

Hotch stared at the back of her head, lost in his thoughts as he followed her to the common room. He had been looking for the Ambassador's daughter since she was late for the meeting after he had gotten an earful from one of the many Ambassador's adviser's about her missing from her room. He was heading toward the grounds when he heard a cry from above, and apparently was suddenly graced with her presence.

His neck hurt, his headache was now raging, and his back screamed with every step. As he continued to follow her, he had to silently remind himself why he had accepted this job in the first place. His first priority was always the Ambassador, and this was the first time he had ever met her daughter since she was off studying at college, but he noted gratefully that he probably wouldn't be having to interact with her for very long. It seemed she was already hazardous to his health.

He noticed for as awkward as their previous interaction was, she walked with poise and seemed to slip into her politician facade quite quickly as her hands that were still scratched up from the ivy confidently turned the brass door handle.

Emily opened the door quickly and looked up at the Ambassador. She was standing in the middle of a richly decorated room, surrounded by a handful of advisors, and a few agents. Her thinly manicured brow arched up, and she turned to face her daughter.

"Emily. It seems that the college life has spoiled your ability to arrive on time..." She stated, looking none too pleased. Her perfectly styled brown hair swayed with the disproving shake of her head.

Emily glared back at the Ambassador. "I didn't realize I had to come to a meeting to be greeted by my own mother..." She said coldly.

The Prentiss' stood there staring each other down. Everyone in the room stood in an uncomfortable silence, and even saw a few agents act as if they were getting information through their earpieces and whirled around, hurriedly walking to the other side of the room pretending to be busy.

"Emily, while you are not on official business, I do expect you to arrive on time when you are on these grounds." The Ambassador said with finality. "Since Special Agent Guerrero retired as head of security, I was going to introduce you to our new head, but...it seems you two have already met..." She stated with disapproval.

Emily turned around, and glanced at Agent Hotchner, his face still the same stoic, impassive expression. "Yes, we have. Amazing sense of humor,he should fit right in." She muttered, turning back to face her mother.

"Don't mutter, Emily, it's unbecoming."

Emily could feel a bubble of rage build in her stomach. She had one more year of college until she got her criminal justice degree and she could get the fuck out of dodge. She most definitely did not want to step foot here again. She didn't even want to be here now, it was when the Ambassador had sent a few agents to collect her on campus when she realized she was being left with little choice in the matter. The lack of freedom she possessed was beginning to wear on her.

Emily willed the bubble to dissipate, and made her face impassive. The Ambassador would not rile her emotions up and win. She gave a tight smile, "Yes...we met briefly."

The Ambassador scrunched her eyebrows up and cocked her head, "What...is in your hair?"

Emily cringed. She didn't want to be here anymore. She felt herself shrinking a little under her mother's scrutiny. She wanted to sink in the floorboards. Everyone was staring at her.

Even though Special Agent Hotchner was facing her back, he could sense her embarrassment wafting off of her in waves. He didn't approve of her scaling over rooftops, but he didn't think she deserved to be berated in front of everyone in the room. Ambassador Prentiss could be quite critical, and wasn't the easiest person to work for, but he was also the one that applied for the job. He signed up for it, but Ms. Prentiss didn't have much of a choice. He noticed her silently picking at her thumbs.

Emily opened her mouth to speak, when she heard the agent behind her interject.

"The gardener was maintaining the ivy on the outer walls, and must not have realized Ms. Prentiss walking underneath. I've already spoken with him about being more aware, Ambassador." He said, smoothly without skipping a beat.

_What?_ Emily stared at her mother, and watched as her mother slowly nodded and gave both of them another disapproving look.

The Ambassador huffed, and stalked off, leaving the room, and instantly the room felt lighter. Emily let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. Everyone trickled out going their separate ways. She turned around and saw Agent Hotchner turning to leave, when she grabbed for his arm. He stopped abruptly and turned to look at her.

"Thanks-" She said quickly, "For covering me."

He stared at her for a couple minutes and nodded. "Perhaps sticking to walking on the ground might be a better choice for you."

She almost glared at him until she saw the corner of his mouth barely raise. She scoffed, and shook her head, not being able to hide the light smile that grew on her face.

"I think that's a good idea." She agreed, absentmindedly rubbing her back. "Sorry for falling on you."

"Don't mention it. I guess I will just have to look up a little more often. Enjoy the rest of your day, Ms. Prentiss."

He turned around to walk out the door they had walked through earlier, but stopped before he reached it and turned around, "Really. Don't...mention it to anyone." He said, and disappeared.

Emily was slightly amused watching his quickly retreating form and sighed.

_Okay..._ she thought. _How hard could it be to get back in the swing of things? _

She didn't realize how much she took for granted at school. She was free to go where she wanted at school and off campus at Yale, but now, like her whole life growing up, she was stuck being monitored 24/7 and expected to hold herself with dignity and poise. _Dignity-shmignity..._This was Emily Prentiss' summer, and not even the Ambassador was going to ruin it.

Hotch made his way up the stairs toward the Head Security office. He opened the door and found Special Agent Wade Manelli spinning circles in his chair next to the various monitors displayed on the wall. He was Hotch's secondary agent in charge of the security office.

"That's productive." Hotch quipped, shutting the door and looking at Manelli expectantly.

"It helps me look at all of the cameras at the same time! Work smarter, not harder, sir." He said, his thick Brooklyn accent coming out.

Special Agent Wade Manelli was a bit older than Hotch, and shorter. He looked like a typical Italian, tan skin and dark hair, and had an intriguing sense of humor. He was quirky, but extremely reliable and a reliable agent. Hotch had heard he had served in the U.S. Army as a combat medic for a few years and something about an Ebola outbreak in Brazil pushed him into getting out and entering the law enforcement route, and somehow found himself on the Ambassador's doorstep.

Hotch continued to stare at him, and Manelli sighed dramatically, standing up and removing himself from Hotch's chair. Manelli adjusted his tie and walked over to some monitor's on the far wall. He started tweaking the direction of the cameras slightly.

"I uh...saw you found the Ambassador's daughter..." He said, slowly. His brown eyes darted to his boss, unable to hold the smirk forming on his face. He watched as his boss' back stiffened before he sat down in his chair.

"Come again?" Hotch challenged, their eyes meeting.

"I'm sorry, I mean...she found _you_." After a few minutes of silence, Manelli rolled his eyes. "You're no fun, ya know that? I never get any reaction out of you. Takes all the fun out of it."

Hotch's mouth turned up ever so slightly, "That's the point isn't it?"

After a few quips, the agents got back down to business.

"I don't know Ms. Prentiss very well, or her usual habits." Hotch began, "Were you working here when she still lived at the estate?"

Manelli thought for a moment, "I started here shortly before she left for Yale, if I remember correctly."

"Is this usual behavior for her?

"You mean like running around on the roof, or slipping security, or sneaking off estate grounds, or-"

Hotch raised his hand in the air, "Okay, I get it..."

Manelli smiled, "Hey, in all honesty boss man, she's a good cookie. Granted, she was a lot of work for us, but she's smart. Getting her criminal justice degree I think."

_Interesting. _"What precautions would you suggest we take?" Hotch asked.

If Emily Prentiss was staying for the whole summer, like Hotch was informed of last week, then he was going to need to get a little more imaginative in keeping an eye on her. He had heard stories from some of the old guard of her perseverance in escaping and he could tell his headache was not going to be going away any time soon.

Manelli smiled wickedly, "All of em, sir."

_There's the first chapter, I hope you enjoy it! Read and review! For some of my readers that have read my Bones fic you will recognize Manelli! Haha, I thought it would be fun sticking my favorite OC in here. He's got a great sense of humor while Prentiss is usually so sarcastic, and Hotch's is so...dry. Lol. Anyway, thanks for reading and tell me what you think! I never specified any age's so try not to get caught up in that too much. ;) _


	2. Chapter 2

The alarm loudly beeped at 0400. Hotch groaned as he rolled over on his back, tangled in his covers. His bleary eyes looked around the apartment as it continued to go off. Slowly sitting up on the edge of the bed, he stretched his sore back. Why was it so sore? _Oh yeah..._He scoffed and shook his head, rubbing the sleep from his eyes..._Prentiss..._

His knee's popped as he stood and made his way over to the bathroom, and began getting ready for his shift. He turned the shower on and walked into the kitchen to start some coffee. He took his time in the shower allowing the hot water to wake him up, and quickly got dressed.

Grabbing his Glock 17 he double checked a round was in the chamber, and the mag was fully loaded, and slipped it easily into his holster on his right side, despite the fact he was left-handed. He had a right dominate eye, so he had always kept it on his right side. He slipped his Glock 26 in his ankle holster after double checking it as well, and snagged his credentials from the bedside table. He poked his head in the bathroom to check and make sure his hair looked presentable before grabbing his dark suit jacket and his coffee and walked out the door.

Hotch got in his black SUV and glanced at the time 0445. He didn't have to be at work until 0600, but he always got their earlier than what he had to, and the estate was not too far of a drive. He put it in drive and was on his way.

Paris was a very unique place. He hadn't traveled a lot outside of the U.S. so he was a little excited when he found he had received the job here in Paris. If he had to admit it, he had truthfully put in the job to get away from the states for awhile. He had been married to his wife Haley since high school, but since being a Prosecutor, his schedule did not allow a lot of family time, and that was something that began to scrape away at their marriage. Slowly but surely, he watched his marriage crumble, and for someone who craved control as much as he did, it was heartbreaking. He loved what he did, and he loved Haley- but it seemed fate was telling him he couldn't have both, and eventually had made him decide. When he couldn't make a decision, she decided for him by serving him divorce papers.

So seeing all of the historical architecture whizzing by his window as he drove was a refreshing change. A new start.

He stopped at a red light and reached for his mug. Hotch frowned. It was empty. He noticed a cafe down the street ahead and the thought was tantalizing. He had mulled it over a few seconds, and was about to change his mind when he noticed a familiar dark headed woman walking past his window.

Hotch furrowed his eyebrows and looked again. It was still dark out, and he couldn't be sure, but the young woman walked under a street light and had looked behind her, as if making sure no one had followed her.

The light turned green and he turned right at the closest side street he could find and parked the car. He got out and locked it, lightly jogging toward where he last saw her. He scanned the sidewalks that seemed to be growing busier with foot traffic as the minutes ticked by. Everyone was hustling to get to work, something he should probably be doing.

Until, he saw her again. She crossed another street into a cafe. Hotch recognized her immediately when her face was illuminated by the store's lighting. He searched around looking for any agents nearby. They sure should have been nearby, but he didn't see anyone he recognized. He was about to cross the street when he received a call. He dug into his jacket pocket and answered.

"Hotchner."

"Ms. Prentiss is missing from her bedroom, no one can find her on the grounds. We think she dodged security and left the premises without a bodyguard. We've searched all over-

Hotch interrupted the agents voice that seemed to grow with anxiety the more he spoke, "Don't worry, I may have an idea where she is..."

With that, Hotch hung up, and put his phone away. As he crossed the street he started to feel raindrops sprinkle down and made it into the door before it started to downpour.

The cafe was small and bustling with morning goers trying to get some caffeine before their commute. Prentiss was waiting in line patiently for her turn to order, so he stood in line behind her. He noticed she wore dark blue jeans, some grey ankle high laced up boots, and a dark green top with a light jacket. Her purse was clutched in both arms so no one could pickpocket her. That was the one smart thing she's done today, he thought.

Emily Prentiss looked at the menu that hung above the counter. She already knew what she wanted but she thought she'd look at it again. She suddenly felt uneasy, as if someone was watching her. She went to 'stretch her back' to look around. Her dark eyes scanned the people mingling at the tables inside on her right and then looked behind her.

She visibly jumped and held her chest as her heart was beat frantically in her rib cage. She stared up at him, and met his gaze accusingly.

"What are you doing here?" She growled.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, "I could ask you the same."

"Mademoiselle! Excusez-moi!" The barista spoke, waving her up to the counter.

Emily let a breath out in frustration and left the line. She stalked over to the door and heard the ding of the bell as she opened the door to leave when she saw the rain pouring down. She stared at it. _Just great..._

A couple of minutes later, Hotch reappeared next to her staring at the open door, and offered her a coffee. She begrudgingly took it and followed him away from the door and over to a place where customers could stand and drink their beverages. Many stores charged extra to sit and people-watch, so they opted to stand.

They drank their coffee in silence until Hotch set his cup down, and leaned against the table. He waited for her to speak.

"How did you find me?" She asked, staring at him over her coffee.

"I was on my way to work and I saw you walking toward the cafe." He said, simply. "Shortly after, I received an interesting phone call..."

She looked at him directly, slamming the cup on the table. "I shouldn't have to ask permission to go walk two blocks from my house to get a coffee!"

"No you shouldn't." he agreed, which took Emily slightly by surprise. "But, you have too. Being in your situation in not enviable Ms. Prentiss, but it is foolish to walk by yourself, as an ambassador's daughter, in a foreign country." He said, pointedly.

Emily sat there silently. His facial expression never changed. She seemed to think that was going to be a trend with him. She watched his hand reach for his mug and he took another drink. Waiting for her response.

"I'm not trying to make your job difficult." She said finally, "I'm just trying to live my life. I want to finish my degree and get as far away from that woman as I possibly can. I don't need a babysitter, I just need my freedom."

Hotch sighed, "You know the security team pretty well, correct? You said it yourself Ambassador Prentiss rarely changes anyone out unnecessarily..."

Prentiss nodded, not sure what he was getting at.

"Ambassador Prentiss made it clear you are to go nowhere without a bodyguard, so give me a list of five agents you would prefer to have around you to make the transition a little easier. I will have to get it approved by the Ambassador of course, but if this can help make both of our lives easier than I am willing to try it." he said, sliding a napkin and a pen across the table.

Emily studied his features again. This man was so different than the other agents she had dealt with in the past. Typically they would yell at her, give some speech about being irresponsible, snatch her up and escort her back to her mother, who then would berate her and send her away, only for the cycle to continue, but not Agent Hotchner. In fact he was even letting her enjoy a cup of coffee before being taken back. He seemed to be in control of his emotions all the time, and was quite reasonable. She had only a few times interacted with him, but he seemed pretty consistent. It was intriguing.

She slid the napkin and pen back, "If I have to get stuck with an agent, then I might as well get stuck with you." She said, simply. "After all, we keep bumping in to each other..." She smiled, wryly.

She watched with satisfaction the look of shock spread across his face. She smiled, "You're good at your job which is why your Head of Security, and all the other agent's that work for you I've been able to slip. The Ambassador would agree just because of that fact."

She continued, "A lot of them still treat me like a child, or are overbearing. It's annoying and unnecessary. I really liked the old Head, Agent Guerrero. He was always very fair. I'm sad to hear he retired."

Hotch stared back at her impassively. _This...did not go how I planned..._He was hoping she would give him an idea of who to assign as her bodyguard so these incidents wouldn't happen, but this was...unexpected.

It was silent at the table. Hotch glanced at his watch and he straightened up. He sighed, "Come on..."

Emily allowed a small smile of victory to show and followed him out the door. It quickly disappeared when she realized the rain hadn't let up. Hotch took his suit jacket off and flopped it over her head. He made a dash when the traffic cleared, and she ran after him, holding his jacket over her head until they made it to his SUV. The moment the car beeped to unlock they jumped in.

Prentiss removed the soaking wet jacket from her head and gave a grateful smile, "Thanks." Her pants got soaked, but at least half of her was dry, something, she noted, Hotchner couldn't say.

His shirt was soaked and clung to his muscular frame, Emily noted, and water dripped from his bangs onto the steering wheel. He looked at her and nodded at her thanks, grabbed his jacket and flung it to the back seat, where they heard a loud splat sound as it sat there soaking the leather seats. He shook his head, "Look, If I'm going to agree to this, there needs to be some ground rules."

Emily looked at him, and interjected. "I agree. You want me to stay out of trouble to make your life easier, well, I want to have a little more freedom. So I have rules as well. First, I will have my privacy. I don't need you or anyone else hanging over my shoulder at the house or on the grounds, I like my space. Second, your not allowed to listen to any phone calls I have. That goes with the privacy thing. Third, I get to call you Hotch. Hotchner's too long."

Hotch stared at her for a moment and nodded his agreement, "Fine. Here are my rules. 1. You do not under any circumstance leave my side when were off estate grounds. 2. You will tell me if your in any kind of trouble day or night. And 3. you will obey your curfew the Ambassador gives you."

Emily mulled it over and nodded. They looked at each other and shook hands confidently.

"Also, call me Prentiss. Saying Ms. Prentiss makes me feel like my mother." She said, her face scrunching up like she bit into a lemon.

The corner of his mouth turned up, "Is that a rule?"

Prentiss smiled, "Most definitely."

The drive to the estate was silent, minus the phone call he made telling the staff she had been found, and he was bringing her back. She was not looking forward to the talk she would inevitably have with her mother.

Emily sat in the seat uncomfortably. Even as an adult her mother could still make her feel like such a child. She was so relieved when she was free of the house and was accepted into college for her pre-reqs, and then admission into Yale. It had been so exciting. She found a new freedom there she had never experienced before. She studied hard, and flew through her classes, but the feeling of being able to go where you wanted without asking permission was exhilarating. Even just going to sit next to a pond and read a book was heaven. Knowing no one was watching over your shoulder.

This summer was going to suck. Being flung back into all of the usual crap made her anxiety levels raise. She felt trapped. An animal in a cage, with people watching and looking. It made her feel sick. She hoped she had judged Hotch right. She hoped he was someone who could try to make her life as normal as it could be. Other agents would hover around her, or follow her like a puppy dog. She just wanted to get done with summer and get back to school. _How backwards, _she thought.

Hotch was stuck in his own thoughts. He wasn't sure how he was going to balance all of this, but he would try his best. If he thought he didn't have a life before- he really wasn't going to have one now. He had never really had the specific duty of being assigned to guard someone, sure temporarily for a few hours, or for an event, but this was different. This was going to be day and night, every day. That's why he made the rule about following her curfew, he needed sleep, and would only be able to get it after she had gone to bed. Then the night shift security team would take over and alert him if anything came up. If this worked though, his security team might have an easier job handling Prentiss, and not getting an ass chewing all the time from the Ambassador. _This is worth it...Right?_

The two found themselves standing in front of the ambassador...again. This seemed like it was becoming another trend, Prentiss thought.

She was standing behind her desk, hands glued to the surface, glaring daggers at her daughter.

"May I remind you Emily, that you are always to be accompanied by a member of my security staff when outside these walls, is that clear?" She seethed. "And why are you both soaking wet? It's Paris, carry an umbrella."

"Yes, mother." She said quickly, and the Ambassador's eyebrow raised. She had expected Emily to argue back, like she always did in the past.

"Mother, If I may..."

The Ambassador straightened and walked around her desk, intrigued by the turn of events. It was unlike her daughter to comply so quickly. She would hear what she had to say.

"Agent Hotchner found me at the cafe this morning, where I was getting some coffee, and we had an interesting conversation. I don't like the fact that I require a bodyguard all the time. I told him this, and he offered to assign me someone who I would feel comfortable with. I didn't feel like any of them fit that description, but the few times I have met with Agent Hotchner, he has treated me nothing but fairly. I would like to have him assigned as my official body guard."

The ambassador looked at her and then him, "He is the head of security, he can't be burdened with babysitting you, because you won't follow the rules that have been blatantly laid out to you."

Emily clenched her jaw. _Burden...nice... _

"Ambassador, If I may, It is true Ms. Prentiss is quick to dodge security, but if she requests for me to be assigned to her and that keeps her from going off on her own, I wouldn't mind. I will come in earlier for the morning briefings for my team and arrange my other tasks accordingly. It's not a problem." Hotch added.

The Ambassador stood looking at him for a moment then huffed, "Emily, leave. I want to talk with Agent Hotchner in private."

Prentiss looked over at Hotch and nodded, leaving the room. She closed the door behind her and pressed her ear to the door. She couldn't hear much but muffled voices.

The ambassador walked toward him and raised an eyebrow, "She's never really taken much interest in any of my security team before." She spoke, mostly to herself. She looked back up at him, "I agree. I will sign the documents this evening, but I hope you know what your in for. I will have quarters available for you to move your things in by tomorrow. You are not married, correct?"

Hotch froze. "Correct, but" His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Move my things?"

She smiled, almost wickedly. "Agent Hotchner, please. Did you really think being assigned to Emily was going to allow you to stay living...where ever it is you live? She's a full time job in itself. I don't usually have a member of my security team on the grounds 24/7, but If she is suggesting she can follow the rules if I assign you to her, then I don't want to take any chances. She's rebellious." She said, walking past him and picking up some papers on a table next to the wall.

She looked up at him, "She is a Prentiss after all."

Hotch stayed silent, not really knowing when his life just started to dramatically turn in the conversation. What did she mean quarters? He had to live here?! This was not part of the deal...

"Emily, come on in..."

Prentiss walked back in and stood next to Hotch. She looked at her mother waiting for her decision.

Ambassador Prentiss looked over at Emily, "Fine. If this keeps you from running off and acting like a child, then I will allow it. I will have the paperwork completed tonight. That means..." She said looking back to Hotch, "It starts first thing in the morning. I suggest packing your things today, Hotchner."

With that, she cooly walked past the two and out of the room.

Prentiss whirled around to face him, "Packing? What did she mean by packing?"

Hotch clenched his jaw, "Since I'm assigned to you, I have to live here now too..."

Prentiss gave him a guilty look, "You didn't seem like you had much of a life before though...it will at least save you on gas..." She said, trying to cheer him up.

Hotch gave her a dead-pan look.

"Oh whats wrong? You don't like being stuck in this house?" She teased, "It won't be that bad. I promise I will be on my best behavior!" She said, holding her hand in the air as if she were swearing in.

"Your gonna help me pack, and move all my stuff. This is your fault you know."

Prentiss' smile disappeared, "How much stuff do you have?"

Prentiss looked around her new bodyguards apartment. It was clean and everything seemed to have a place, no clutter in sight. He was either very OCD or he was never here to mess things up. Guilt started to claw at her. She didn't realize her mother was going to force him to stay at the house too. Just because she didn't have much freedom didn't mean she wanted what little he had taken away.

But maybe, it was for the best. She felt like he needed to get out more...

Thankfully Hotch still had his boxes he had brought with him broken down in a closet that they could use. He went to go grab them while Prentiss looked around. Thankfully they had changed out of their clothes before they drove back out here, so they wouldn't be uncomfortable the rest of the day. While she was looking around she didn't see much in the way of any photographs, except one. It was of a teenage looking Hotch and possibly a brother or a friend, both smiling at the beach.

She looked around some more, and her eyes glazed over the entire series editions of law books sitting up on a bookshelf, and then she noticed some other books that weren't as boring. Books on psychology, serial killers, and true crime. She flipped through a few and it actually seemed a little interesting. She put them back and continued on.

The apartment was not really decorated. _Typical guy. _She walked through the small kitchen and opened some of the cupboards only to find they were pretty much empty.

_This is a little depressing, _she thought, closing them back up. She made her way to his bedroom and looked around. A simple bed, and another bookshelf, with a couple bed side tables on either side of the bed were the only furniture in there. She still didn't come across any other photographs or anything really personal. She thought that to be interesting. She opened his closet and saw a line of suits, a couple of extra kevlar vests, and some ties. All of the ties surprisingly seemed in good taste.

"Hotch, you may need a life." She called out to wherever he was, and closed his closet door. She turned around and practically bumped into him.

He didn't look too happy, but then again...did he ever really?

"I brought you here to help me pack all of my things, not go through it."

"Technically, I'm here because your my body guard now." She said smartly.

Hotch shook his head, "Not until tomorrow morning. Now be useful." He shoved some boxes in her hands and turned to leave, "We can start out here."

"You know..." She said following after him, "This might be good for you. Be around people more. Laugh a little..."

He raised an eyebrow, " You sound like a fortune cookie."

Emily chuckled, "I do, don't I?"

They busied themselves putting all of his stuff in boxes for the next couple of hours. Prentiss had just finished packing most of the books when a picture fell out of one. It was of him and a beautiful blonde woman. She cocked her head to the side, "Who is this?"

Hotch looked up from taping up some more boxes when he saw the picture. He had taken his tie off, and rolled his sleeves up about an hour ago when he had carried a few furniture items to the hauling truck the Ambassador had surprisingly paid for.

Prentiss saw his face tighten and he plucked the photo from her hand. He didn't comment. Emily's eyes widened and scrunched her face up..._oookay...must be an old girlfriend or something..._

She continued to pack the box for a few more minutes when she stopped again. "Is she a girlfriend?"

Hotch gave her his signature glare, "It's none of your business, just drop it."

Emily looked at him thoughtfully. "Your my body guard now, don't you think we should get to know each other more? I barely know you except for the fact that you passed all inquisitions and background checks that are standard for your job _and_ you like coffee. That's not a lot to build trust with my life in your hands."

Hotch looked over at her and sighed.

"If you don't want to talk, fine. I will- what did those books say over there, profile? Yes! I will profile you life from what I've seen in your apartment. Let's see..." She thought, rubbing her chin with her hand, "You are a bachelor with no real ties with family from your lack of personal touch or photographs. From the looks of it, your rarely home and pour yourself into your work- your ambitious."

She looked at him again, and nodded, "Yeah, I can see that. Plus your rather young to be Head of Security for an Ambassador, so you'd have to pour a lot of hours into your work... You always look professional and manage to stay objective all the time, I'd say that means...you _have no life outside of work." _

Prentiss exaggerated her last sentence on purpose, "Seriously Hotch. When was the last time you did something for yourself?"

Hotch threw the tape dispenser at her, and then sighed looking at the box he just taped up. It reminded him of when he had to pack all of his things when Haley had kicked him out. He tried his best. He really did. He put a lot of hours into being the best prosecutor he could be, and when he was at home- did his best to be there with her, at home. Not thinking of a trial or a new case. It was hard. He would get calls in all hours of the night, or get called away when they were supposed to be enjoying each other's company. How did people do it?

"Please stop, you look sad." Prentiss said, tossing the tape dispenser back, pulling him away from his thoughts. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want too, but we should get to know each other better."

Hotch scribbled 'books' on the box and capped the marker.

"Ah, your left handed!" She said excitedly, "Interesting..."

"Her name's Hailey. She's my ex-wife."

Prentiss was genuinely surprised, "Oh!...You were married? How long had you two been married?"

Hotch thought for a minute, " about 7 years. We married right after high school."

Prentiss nodded. Judging from the photo he still had of her, she assumed it wasn't a mutual thing. "Was it because of work?"

She already new the answer, and suddenly started feeling guilty about making all of those comments earlier.

"Yes."

An awkward silence fell around them. So she stood, dusted off her pants, and rested her hands on hips "Well, it's a new start, right? Besides, it's a good thing you work a lot, because...I'm a lot of work..." At that, she chuckled, and found herself watching a small smile form on his face.

"You got that right."

Finally, almost all of it was packed save a few boxes. Thankfully the drivers helped Hotch load up his furniture so Emily didn't have to. It was passed dinner time, and both of them were famished. He thanked the driver's in french and they drove away toward the estate.

"I'm starving." She said, as he walked back toward her. He looked back at his old apartment door, and held his coat in his arm, both hands in his pockets.

"Me too. What do you want?" He asked.

Prentiss thought for a moment, and her eyes lit up, "There's a good restaurant down the street!"

They walked about a mile and entered the restaurant where they got seated right away. The waitress came over and asked what drinks they wanted in french. Emily rattled off her answer and then looked at Hotch expectantly. He gave her a sheepish look and Prentiss chuckled.

"Your an agent in France, and you don't know french?" Prentiss laughed some more, and ordered for him. The waitress nodded and left.

"What did you tell her?"

"I ordered you a water. You didn't look like you got enough this morning."

Hotch playfully glared at her, and mumbled a thanks. Prentiss thought it was quite cute actually.

The waitress came back with their drinks and Emily ordered both of their meals. She nodded and disappeared again.

"I went to George Washington University and got my JD in D.C. I worked as a prosecutor for a few years. I _was _married. I don't know french, or any other language."

Prentiss smiled, "Okay, how about this, from now on I will handle all the french stuff."

Hotch smirked, "Deal."

Prentiss sipped her beverage, " I took my pre reqs at Chesapeake Bay University and I'm almost done with my criminal justice degree at Yale. I grew up all over the world, wherever my mother was stationed at. I am fluent in arabic, spanish, french, and italian. My russian is really rusty."She admitted.

The waitress brought out their food, and set it on the table. "Bon apetite'."

"Merci." Prentiss replied, and the waitress smiled, and walked away.

They dug into their food and fell into a comfortable silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Hotch glanced at his watch. It was well past noon and Prentiss wasn't up yet. They had managed to move most of his stuff down to the living quarters in the basement that night, and decided to just get rid of the rest. He didn't need that much anyway, and it was getting really late by the time they had finished. The basement living quarters were actually really nice, a definite step-up from the apartment anyway_._

_Not that I'm ever going to be there..._

The Ambassador disliked Prentiss sleeping in, especially this late, but he had convinced her to make today an exception since she had stayed up most of the night to help, or rather he had forced her to help him, since he lost his apartment. It only seemed fair.

He knocked on the large oak door. He didn't hear anything so he stepped into the room and walked over to the long white lace curtains that covered the bay window that overlooked the garden. He glanced at the inelegant sleeping form of his charge. She had wisps of dark hair splayed about, and a trail of drool on her lower lip. She was snoring softly when he opened the curtains abruptly. The light poured in like Jesus had returned and she yelled, throwing her blankets over her head.

"What are you doing!?" She groaned, not moving from her comforter cocoon. It was white, and really thick. The estate could get quite chilly at night, so she typically used this comforter all year round. She had brought it with her from school.

"Get up." He ordered, grabbing the comforter and ripping it off.

"This was not part of the deal!" She sat up angrily, hair still stuck to her face.

Hotch leaned over the bed next to her, "Neither was losing my apartment. You're lucky I convinced the Ambassador to let you sleep in as long as you did."

Prentiss huffed. Hotch would never admit it aloud, but she looked incredibly cute right now. Her eyes were sparkling with annoyance as she glared at him. He stepped back, giving her space and walked out the door to let her get ready. Closing it behind him, Agent Manelli popped around a corner.

"Boss man!" His Brooklyn accent reverberating through the paneled halls. He wore a similar dark suit as Hotch and a lopsided red tie.

"Look!" He smiled and pointed at his tie. "I wore it just for you."

Hotch had pulled him to the side last night and informed him of Hotch's new assignment. Wade Manelli initially had a look of pity for the younger man, but then was replaced with self-pity instead when Hotch informed him of the extra work he was going to have to help his boss with. Hotch had also reminded him of the dress code. Manelli being the second in command for the security team needed to look as professional as the rest, and he had a habit of bending the dress code...a lot.

Hotch snagged the older man's tie, and re-tied it. He briefly wondered how he had been doing this job for as long as he did and still did a lousy job tying a proper tie."How did the morning briefing go?"

Manelli shrugged, "Fine. I was notified there's a gala were gonna have to run OT on in about 3 days. The French Prime Minister, and some other big wigs will be attending, so I'll fill you in on the details tonight, if you want, and you can tell us where to go from there."

Hotch nodded. " Sounds good."

Manelli nodded his thanks, patting his freshly knotted tie, and whirled around disappearing around a corner.

Hotch exhaled loudly, and put a hand on his hip. He stared at the old oil paintings that decorated the walls. The statues, and gaudy rugs. He glanced up at the twinkling chandelier that hung from the high ceiling. Advisers walked quickly around him, and a couple of press members whirred past. He noticed there was a steady stream of traffic all the time in the estate during business hours, but more so for the upcoming gala. He understood why Prentiss wanted to escape all the time. It was almost suffocating to be here.

He decided to make his way up to his office, and look through the reports that were laid on his desk every morning. If Prentiss needed anything she could find him. He wasn't obligated to follow her every move inside the estate. He climbed up the dark wooden stairs, walking past some visiting officials, and entered his office.

He closed the door, and the noise died down instantly. Muffled voices and footsteps echoed past, but it was significantly better. He looked around at the cameras. All seemed in order. He sank into his chair and rubbed his eyes. He only got a few hours of sleep before his shift started, but that's what coffee was for. He pondered leaving his office and getting some coffee down in the kitchens, but the loud murmur outside his door made him change his mind.

He sifted through the papers of the daily reports, and upcoming events. Sure enough, the gala Manelli had mentioned was on here, and he skimmed through the details. He would have to start working out logistics with the other agencies tomorrow to start preparing.

He logged into his computer and waited for Windows to finish turning on. The familiar bleep shook the speakers, causing him to jump in his seat. He turned the nob all the way down to silence them.

"Manelli..."

Prentiss finished getting ready for the day, donning some comfortable jeans and a white blouse. She made sure her hair looked on point one more time in the mirror, and left her room, closing the door behind her. She looked around the hallway and noticed Hotch had disappeared. She frowned.

_Where is he?_ Prentiss looked down the hallway both ways and made her way into the large foyer, quickly getting out of the way of a large herd of press members. They were all setting up a press conference in the conference room. She made a mental note to stay away from there.

She continued searching for him when one of his agent's called out her name. She turned around, and inwardly cringed. _Callahan..._

"Hello, Agent Callahan. How can I help you?" She asked, putting on her best politician face. She smiled politely. She folded her hands in front of her so he wouldn't try holding her hand.

Callahan was skeezy, and always creeped Prentiss out. The tall, middle-aged, blue-eyed blonde was a long-time agent at the estate, and worked for her mother for years. He would always corner her in the most inopportune times and his hand would linger on her shoulder a little too long for her liking, but he never did anything outright inappropriate for grounds for termination.

"I didn't realize you were here for the summer! Welcome back!" He said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. She smiled tightly.

"Thank you, Callahan- If you'll excuse me." She said turning away, when his hand grabbed her by the shoulder preventing her from leaving, and turning her back to face him.

"Where are you going? I wasn't quite finished." He said lowly, his predatory eyes checking her out.

Prentiss' eyes glittered with anger, "You touch me again, Callahan, and I will rip your hand off, and make sure you get sent to Antarctica for the rest of your crumby career." She growled. She wrenched his hand off of her, staring him down. He broke into a grin.

"Feisty as ever, Emily." He purred.

"It's Ms. Prentiss to _you._"

"Are you alright, Ms. Prentiss?"

Relief washed over Emily immediately when she head a familiar voice. She would recognize that accent anywhere. She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"Manelli...Callahan was just leaving."

"I'll see you later, Ms. Prentiss. I heard you were looking to go sight-seeing in Paris today. Paris is at a tumultuous time in its history...I would be careful... Alot of things could go wrong."

Manelli's mouth dropped as he heard the tone in his voice. That was unmistakably a threat. Manelli's hands found the other agents tie, and spun him into a back hallway. Callahan collided with the wall, the breath being knocked out of him. Manelli's face was dangerously close to his, "One more fucking word and I will end you right here."

Callahan laughed, "Go ahead, make a scene. You can explain to the Ambassador why your assaulting another agent in front of the press."

Manelli glanced over his shoulder, and saw the curious eyes of a number of individuals who had stopped what they were doing to watch them. He scoffed, and looked back at Callahan. "You think I'm afraid of a few punk ass press rats? It would be worth it to beat your sorry ass."

"Manelli, it's fine." Prentiss said quickly, gently easing him off Callahan. She looked around and saw everyone watching. She waved at the people to move along, and after a few moments, the incident had already been forgotten. The last thing she needed was for her mother to hear about a fight right in front of the press. She'd have a field day.

"Yeah, Manelli. It's fine." Callahan whispered while smiling at Emily. He straitened his suit jacket. "Don't worry, _Ms. Prentiss_. I won't mention this to the Ambassador."

He winked at the two of them and strided back through the foyer, out of sight.

Prentiss was seething. As the years had gone by Callahan had grown more bold with his advances, and each time she dissuaded him, he grew increasingly persistent. Whether he was the type of man that liked the challenge or not, Prentiss just liked to be left alone. For some reason though, she had a bad feeling this time. Something felt different. He had eyed her like a piece of meat, a prize waiting to be claimed. It made her feel sick.

"What the fuck was that about? Pardon my french." Manelli asked through gritted teeth, his face was contorted in barely contained rage, and she noticed his whole body wound up like a tight coil. His eyes never left Callahan's form until he disappeared out of sight.

Prentiss shook her head, "It's Callahan, he's a creep. Don't worry about it."

Manelli turned to face her, his face very serious. It was actually one of the few times she had ever seen his face this serious. "If you want Callahan gone, you just say the word, and he's gone."

Prentiss exhaled and shook her head, "It's not that simple. Callahan is my mothers bodyguard. He's assigned to her."

Manelli deflated slightly. She had tried in the past to get him re-assigned to another ambassador, but he was excellent at his job and he got results. Her mother wouldn't do anything unless there was proof of some wrong doing, and her mother wouldn't fire him over her feeling uncomfortable with him.

Manelli gave her elbow a reassuring squeeze, "I'll talk to Hotchner about it."

Prentiss shook her head, "It's fine...I'll talk to him."

Hotch looked up as his office door opened, and saw Prentiss come in. She gave him a half smile and looked at the chair that sat in front of his desk, as if she wanted to sit down. He waited for her to sit, but he noticed to his surprise, she didn't. Something was bothering her.

He stood up and walked around his desk and sat down on the edge of it, facing her. He leaned back comfortably and folded his arms. His dark eyes studied her a moment, taking in her tense posture.

"Prentiss."

Emily looked up at him, and smiled, "Sorry, it's nothing. I just have a lot on mind."

Prentiss originally walked in there and was going to tell him about what had just happened, but one look at him made her change his mind. He had dark circles under his eyes, and looked exhausted._ I guess he didn't get to sleep in too._ It almost felt like a silly thing to tell him now, and nothing really happened. It was just Callahan. She didn't need to burden him with another thing so trivial.

Hotch furrowed his eyebrows, "Tell me."

Prentiss, folded her arms, and smiled again, a little more genuinely, "It's nothing really. Can we just get out of here for awhile?"

Hotch nodded, and stood. "Yeah, sure."

The two walked off the grounds, through the security check point and soon found themselves strolling through the busy streets of Paris. Prentiss had always enjoyed traveling growing up. Most of the countries she had lived in were Middle Eastern, and not as advanced as Europe, but the different cultures and languages fascinated her. She never had much time spending with her mother, and she really didn't know her father, so she would always take the time and interact with the local people to help fend off the feelings of loneliness she would often get. It was odd to be surrounded by so many people every day and still feel alone.

Here in Paris though, she had a few favorite places she would always go to when she wanted to get out a little. The bookstore adjacent to Notre Dame was her favorite. It was filled ceiling to floor with hundreds of century old books, and dusty papers, as well as modern books readily available to purchase by the public. It was called Shakespeare and Co. Although originally when it opened in 1919, it was called Le Mistral, and was a hub for exceptional writers of the time, including Stein, Hemingway, and Fitzgerald.

She got excited when they turned a corner and it came into view. She was a bit of a book worm.

"Hey Hotch, do you like to read?" She remembered seeing some books on his bookshelf when she helped him pack his things, but they all seemed to be job related.

"Sometimes." He said absently, scanning the crowds around them as they made their way closer. Being right next to the world famous Notre Dame meant many crowds of tourists squeezing by and pick pockets would be out in droves.

"What do you like to do for fun then?" She asked, looking up at him curiously when they made it through the majority of the crowds.

Hotch pondered this for a moment, "What's 'fun'?"

Prentiss rolled her eyes.

"So are you going to tell me what happened?" He asked quickly. His black sunglasses shielded his eyes from her view. When she didn't reply, he stopped walking and stood in front of her, facing her, cocking his head to the side. Prentiss was annoyed at his relaxed, yet commanding posture.

Prentiss stared back at him with a straight face, " It was nothing."

Hotch nodded slowly, "Okay..."

He noticed her visibly relax. Of course, he wasn't just going to let this go. When he returned to the estate, he planned on questioning some of his agents to see if they had seen anything. He didn't like staying in the dark, or being the last one to know. That was what happened with him and Hailey. It first started out with her just going to bed angry, or they would fight about how much he worked, going over so many case files as the district prosecutor, and getting phone calls in the middle of the night. Then he noticed her withdrawing from him, and avoiding him, staying with her sister Jessica at times. Sure, he knew they were having problems with the marriage, but he realized too late that it had become unsalvageable when he received his divorce papers.

He wouldn't say he was an expert, but he had gotten damn good at reading people in the court room, and knew Prentiss had been really bothered by something. In fact, her thumbnails were being picked at this very moment. So, he decided to drop it for now. He would broach the subject when he found out what it was and a solution to deal with it.

Prentiss was a little surprised when he backed down so quickly, but was also relieved. Her and Callahan had some rocky history between the two, and she was nothing but excited to be rid of him when she was finally able to go to college. Too many times he had made her uncomfortable or made lewd comments to her, and seeing him this morning had started reminding her of how much she really didn't like him.

She had nosed through the books at Shakespeare and Co. for about half an hour when she looked around to see what her fearless bodyguard was up too. He really wasn't hard to miss. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He stood uncomfortably in a corner next to a very tall pile of books, scanning the room, surrounded by various people browsing for the latest titles. She shook her head and chuckled.

"Please tell me you look this awkward in public all the time." She asked as she approached him.

Hotch raised an eyebrow. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Unfortunately no, but that just means we can come again another day." She said, winking at him. "Ya know, more time out of the house."

Hotch just nodded and followed her back down the narrow steps to the first floor. They were about to clear the stairs when he looked around and something felt off. The room was empty compared to when they arrived, save the two men surrounding a woman at the counter, presumably a cashier, and noticed each one held a knife. Prentiss saw it too. She stopped suddenly, and her body stiffened. Instinctively he gently touched her shoulder and guided her behind him.

The woman looked at them in desperation, her body shaking as one of the men-presumably the leader- shouted at her again. The two men hadn't taken notice of them yet since their backs were to the stairs.

Hotch stepped down onto the landing and quietly slid a book from it's shelf, an older looking one with a hard cover. He had thought about using his gun, but he didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention to them. The gun laws in Paris were quite strict, and was uncommon for citizens to be carrying any firearms on their person, so he opted for a weapon of opportunity. He could easily take care of these two with it.

The two men kept yelling at the petrified woman until Hotch tapped the nearest guy on the shoulder. The first man whirled around and was met with a book to the face. He heard the satisfying snap of the man's nose and grabbed his wrist that held the knife, and slammed the book down onto his forearm, causing a sickening crack. The man screamed and fell. His partner rushed to his aide, shouting in french. Hotch threw the book in the air and it collided into the other man's face. The perp flew back hitting his head on the wooden floor. Nobody moved for a moment, and dust swirled around in the room.

Hotch quickly turned to Emily, "We should probably go..."

His words snapped her out of her trance, and she nodded quickly. She hurried over to him, hopping over moaning bodies. She looked over at the woman at the counter, and she seemed as shocked as she was.

Hotch placed a hand onto the small of her back and guided her quickly out the door and through the crowded plaza once more. Once they put some distance between themselves and the bookstore, Emily stopped and turned around to face him, almost causing him to run into her.

"That-that was incredible! You have to teach me how to do that!"

Hotch was puzzled by how excited she was. It wasn't really a big deal, although he most definitely was going to have to write it up in a report and notify local authorities as soon as they got back to the estate. Playing nice with local authorities was always a priority.

"Teach you?"

Emily nodded quickly. "Yes! I've been taught a few basic techniques by a few agents a long time ago when I was little, but I think it's important to learn these things. My mother had forbidden it years ago, but I'm an adult now, _and _I need to learn it eventually anyway if I'm going to be working in criminal justice."

Hotch exhaled, staring at her silently. She had some plausible points. In his opinion, she should have already been taught some practical self defense courses. He was a little surprised at this revelation. Being the Ambassador's daughter was dangerous in nature, and with her past of slipping security he was growing more irritated at the fact she would slip the guards so often.

He was also growing quite aware she was practically buzzing with excitement. In fact her eyes were wide and begging for him to agree, and her lips were slightly pursed in determination. _Focus. _

"Let's just get you back first." He said, noting the crushingly disappointing look that washed over her face.

They walked back to the estate in relative silence, and Prentiss had returned to her room. He had made his way back up to his office where his colleague had been waiting for him.

About an hour went by as he listened to Manelli's detailed report from this morning's briefing and he was just about done with the incident report at the bookstore for the Paris police. All he had to do was fax it and if they required anymore questions, he could pay them a visit tomorrow.

Usually if an incident like that had occurred without him being on a protective detail, he would have stayed and talked to the authorities at the scene, but with Prentiss being there he decided to get her back to the safety of the estate.

He looked up to see the other agent stand up and walk over to the wall and leaned against it, folding his arms.

"Do you know Agent Callahan well?"

Hotch cocked his head and looked up at Manelli, "He is one of Ambassador Prentiss' main bodyguards, and has been for many years. Why?"

Manelli drummed his fingers, "Something's not right with this guy, Hotch."

Hotch furrowed his eyebrows, "What makes you say that?"

Manelli quickly looked back at Hotch, a surprised look on his face. "Ms. Prentiss didn't tell you?"

Hotch stood and walked over to Manelli, "No. She came in here this morning, and I could tell something was bothering her, but she wouldn't tell me."

Manelli shook her head, "I was walking around the foyer when I noticed she seemed wicked pissed at him. They had been talking and she seemed pretty uninterested in the conversation, so she turned to leave and he grabbed her by the shoulder and that's when I intervened. I asked if she was okay, and she said she was fine, but I could tell something was definitely not right."

Hotch nodded slowly taking in the new information, prompting Manelli to continue.

"Then he had mentioned about knowing she was going out today and that Paris was dangerous and to be careful- but Hotch, the way he said it...it was definitely not in a friendly way. I got so pissed I grabbed him and threw him into the wall, she intervened, and I told her that if he was harassing her that we could move him to a different assignment, or charge him, but she said that it was fine, and to forget about it. She said she was going to talk to you, but I guess she didn't."

Hotch walked back over to the monitors and pulled up footage of the altercation and watched it. Callahan seemed pleasant enough in the beginning, but Manelli was right when he noticed Prentiss wanted nothing to do with the conversation.

He rubbed his chin. Why didn't she tell him? If Callahan had been unprofessional in any way or harassed Prentiss, and from her facial expression on the monitor it told him this wasn't the first time, why didn't she say something about it? Had she told the Ambassador?

"Anyway, now ya know..." Manelli muttered, stepping away from the wall, "I'm outta here If you don't need me."

Hotch nodded, still lost in thought, "Thanks, Manelli, I'll take care of it."

Prentiss heard a knock at her door. She crossed the large room and opened it. Hotch stood there staring at her, and after a couple of minutes, she started to feel a little uncomfortable. "What...can I do for you?"

"Is Callahan bothering you?"

Prentiss' jaw tightened, and she looked away, "It's nothing, I can deal with it."

"It didn't look like nothing on the monitors."

Prentiss rolled her eyes. Of course he wouldn't leave it alone. She knew that conversation earlier had ended too quickly. She folded her arms in the doorway and glared at him. "Seriously, it's fine."

They both stared at each other for a few long and tense seconds.

Hotch felt his blood pressure raise as he looked at her. Her stubbornness reminded him greatly of the ambassador. A Prentiss she most definitely was. How could he fix the problem, if she refused to tell him what it was?

Prentiss squared her shoulders and didn't break eye contact. She wasn't about to back down. This had been her problem, for many years actually, and she was finally at a point where she had decided to do something about it. Previously, as head-strong and stubborn as she was, all of her courage would leave her when he came around. She would feel frozen, and so uncomfortable when he spoke to her. No, she would not have someone help her deal with him. She needed to confront him on her own. She had to show him she was in control. She would be the one to show everyone what a lech he was.

She blinked when she saw him sigh.

"Fine. If your not going to tell me, I won't force you to talk."

Prentiss relaxed her shoulders and stared at him curiously as he continued.

"Tomorrow morning, bright an early. Be in the courtyard."

Prentiss furrowed her brows, and cocked her head. "The courtyard?"

"Yes, at 7:00. Don't be late." He said as he turned to leave.

Prentiss raised her hands up in confusion, watching him walk out the door. What was going on in the courtyard that early in the morning? "For what?"

"Training."

_Chapter 3 is up! I hope you enjoyed. More to come! Please review! _


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was just barely over the garden hedge when Emily found herself standing in the courtyard across from Hotch. On any other morning, her eyes would have been drooping, and she would have been annoyed being up this early on her break; but since her new body guard had obliged in teaching her self defense, she found herself quite excited.

So excited in fact, she had found it difficult to sleep that night. For so long she had begged her mother while living under the same roof, to allow her to learn self-defense. Every time the answer was either, "It's not lady-like." or "That's what security is for." Emily would get so frustrated. She was constantly around strangers or threats were being made, and a little knowledge to protect herself would allow her to feel more in control of her safety and surroundings.

However Hotch had managed to convince her mother to let him teach her, she was eternally grateful. Although, how long that would last would depend on how sore she would be the next morning. Expecting things to get physical, she had decided to wear a comfortable maroon t-shirt, a pair of black leggings, and tennis shoes. She tightened her ponytail signaling she was ready.

She watched him slip his suit jacket off of his shoulders and drape it on a bench nearby, as well as removing his weapon and holster and placing it down next to it. He walked back over to her while loosening his tie ever so slightly, and began to roll his sleeves up to his forearms. Her eyes wandered from his defined forearms, to his broad shoulders and wide chest. She couldn't stop a small smile from forming on her face.

He noticed her smiling, "That won't be there for long."

Prentiss scoffed, "Agent Guerrero taught me a thing or two. I'm not completely helpless."

That was a lie. Truthfully, he had really only taught her to kick a man in the junk, or stomp feet, or bite hands if she was in trouble. She had been seven at the time, and as much as that was good information, she didn't think it was going to save her much today. Not after witnessing him rearrange two men's faces with a book.

"First things first" He said, his loud voice reverberating off of the pavement. He stood next to her, and faced her. "Your number one tool for defense is observation."

Emily nodded slowly, "Makes sense, if you're aware of your surroundings then you can perceive danger before it happens."

"Yes. You have to take everything into account; your environment, mannerisms, people, or lack thereof- using yesterday as an example. You walked down the stairs first at the bookstore. Your mind perceived the change in your environment which is why you froze. Your body went rigid, and you became alert."

Emily thought back to yesterday. As she was walking down the stairs she had been thinking of where she could find the book she was looking for, and she had glanced up toward the ground floor, right before she stepped down is when she had noticed everyone gone and two very suspicious looking characters.

"What made you freeze? What did your mind first perceive to be different?" Hotch asked.

She thought for a moment, "The room, I guess. When we walked in it was crowded. When we were leaving, I noticed a significantly less amount of people."

"Would you have seen that if you had found the book you were looking for and decided to skim through it while walking downstairs to the cashier?"

"Probably not."

He shook his head, "No, most likely not. You have to _always_ be aware of your surroundings. The people in your vicinity, how many-or how few. Are there vehicles nearby, or a lack thereof? All of these factor into your perception of your environment. A lack of something is just as important as an abundance of something."

Emily scrunched her eyebrows, "Elaborate."

"Say you walked out into the plaza where we were yesterday-same time of day- and there were very few people. Is that not significant?"

"Yes, it would be. I would be suspicious, unless due to inclement weather, there's always a ton of people there."

Hotch nodded his approval, "Detailed observation will come with time. For now, tell me how many agents are walking on the grounds right now, within our line of sight?"

She instinctively glanced to the side to look but he moved in front of her again, blocking her vision.

"Don't look _now_, that's cheating. The point is- on your way walking to the courtyard you should have been aware of who was in your field of vision. So tell me how many you can remember."

Emily bit the inside of her cheek and ignored the smell of his cologne that kept wafting toward her. "I remember five."

He stepped to the side and motioned for her to look around. Her eyes scanned the well tended grounds and was a little shocked when she counted eight. Nine including the one standing next to her.

"Observing also entails reading. It's customary for guests at the estate who are staying for any period of time- family of the Ambassador included- to be given an itinerary of security measures, rules and regulations. If you _read_ yours you would have known that. _At least _eight agents are to be patrolling the grounds at any given time."

She chewed her lip with disdain.

"How many exits are in the estate? How many windows? How many specific routes of egress on each floor and where are their location?"

"Alright, alright- I get the idea." She said. Her mind was whirling with all of this new information. She had always known about the importance of being aware of your surroundings- but how many years had she been at that estate on and off? How many exits _were_ there on each floor? What if there was a fire? She should know these things, and it was starting to make her a little disconcerted to think she didn't know the answer.

She was still pondering that fact when Hotch quickly closed the little distance between the two and pushed her roughly into the bushes that lined the courtyard, diving in after her. Twigs and thorns scratched at their exposed skin.

"WHAT THE-"

He silenced her by putting his finger to her lips, and making eye contact momentarily. His eyes were apologetic, and quickly glanced back toward the other side of the courtyard. She followed his gaze and saw her mother walking briskly from the estate to her vehicle in the drive. It seemed she had important business to attend to from the speed in which she was walking.

"You...never got permission from my mother, did you?" Emily chuckled quietly.

"...Very astute." He responded stoically. She watched his brow furrow as he smacked some thorns haughtily, annoyance gradually showing on his face.

Emily started to laugh, and after a few moments, she saw his shoulders bounce up and down as he silently chuckled with her. They looked ridiculous. He shook his head and continued to watch as the Ambassador's vehicle pulled away. Once the coast was clear, and no agent's in sight, the two popped out of the bushes as if it was the most normal thing to do. Emily brushed off all of the twigs and leaves that had accumulated on her clothing, but her smile still remained.

This was actually really fun. How long had it been since she actually had enjoyed herself while at her mother's house? She could only really ever remember being happy at school, away from the life her mother had forced her in. Asking Hotch to be her bodyguard had been one of the best decisions she had made so far since arriving here.

She practiced her observation skills discreetly. He was _very _easy on the eyes. Tall, handsome, and reserved most of the time. He made efficient work of brushing the leaves and twigs off of his clothes and ventilated his collar. His voice was low and reserved most of the time too. She had never witnessed any outburst, or loss of control. He seemed to have his emotions in check at all times. Even when they had been at the hold-up at the bookstore, she remembered him gently touching her shoulder and walking past her to deal with the situation. And _did_ he deal with the situation. It had been flawless, a choreographed fight from a movie. He was quick and confident. How on earth did his ex-wife not appreciate that?

How on earth was he single? Wait! _Was_ he single? It seemed like it when she had helped him move his things to the estate. She hadn't been aware of any other photos or female clothing at his apartment. Thinking back on it now, she wished she was more observant then.

"I wonder what my mother would say if she found out you were teaching me defense skills without her knowledge." She wondered aloud.

Hotch turned to face her, "It's best we don't find out."

"How do you feel keeping secrets from the Ambassador?" Emily pryed, _observing _him for a reaction.

Hotch raised an eyebrow, and rested his hands on his hips. "I didn't ask because I knew she would decline my suggestion, and in weighing the pros and cons of teaching you to fight, I decided to...make an executive decision...I don't like it, but it involves your safety so I am comfortable with it."

Prentiss nodded acknowledging the logic. "Fair enough."

Hotch stepped back a couple feet, and looked up at her, "Now, first_ rule _of defense..."

Prentiss eagerly awaited for him to continue, watching him close the distance once again, and grabbed her wrist. She waited for him to finish what he was saying, until she realized...that was a mistake. He slipped his leg behind her feet and used his other hand to push her shoulder back and she landed hard on the ground.

She shot a dirty look up at him, slowly picking herself up.

"Don't freeze."

Emily scowled, "I thought you were going to finish what you were saying..."

"It doesn't matter what I'm saying. People are crafty. They will trick you, distract you- they will do whatever they can to get you off your guard. So what if I was still talking? Observe their non-verbal communication; their body language. Even if someone is talking, their bodies and their movements will reveal their true feelings and intentions."

Prentiss nodded, "Okay...makes sense."

Hotch pointed to her feet, "Feet and legs are always the most honest part of your body. Your feet are pointed toward me, which makes me believe I have your full attention, your committed to our conversation. If you weren't, your torso would be facing me, but your feet would be pointed away, or toward the nearest exit."

Prentiss looked down at her feet. His were pointed toward her too.

"Take time to study people. It can help keep you safe, and help you in every day occurrences too. You can read if people are comfortable with your conversation, or uncomfortable, if they disagree with a statement you make, or feel distressed. The more you practice, the better you'll be."

Emily remembered her mother teaching her something similar to what he had said. Body language, or what he had called non-verbal communication, was a skill her mother was quite good at reading. She always knew when Emily did something wrong. There was no lying to the woman.

"So, when someone starts coming toward you, or making an aggressive movement toward you, don't freeze. You have two options. Fight or flight."

Emily grinned wickedly, "Oh I'm gonna fight..." She got into the basic fighting position Agent Guerrero had taught her years ago.

"Think about this carefully..." He said, a twinkle becoming quite visible in his eyes.

Prentiss lunged toward him...

She found herself on the ground once again, a bruise no doubt would be forming on her backside tomorrow. She huffed and blew the hair out of her face, and stood back up.

"If I were about to attack you, you need to make sure that your honest with yourself and your abilities. Are you reasonably sure you can take on your opponent, or would it be safer to run? Do you have a _choice_ between the two? Those are the questions that should be going through your head."

"Well, at this rate, I'm going to have run away from everything." She growled.

Hotch smirked, and picked a twig out of her hair, apparently it had still been stuck in there from earlier. He tossed it casually on the ground.

Emily was very aware of how close he was, and her body went rigid. She couldn't tell if it was because he was so close that she could smell his cologne, or if he was so close he might flip her over again.

"Get in your fighting stance."

She did as she was told, her left foot in front of her and her right foot a comfortable distance behind, ready to move forward or backward at any moment.

"Good." He said, and stood in front of her. "Now, throw a punch."

Emily didn't need telling twice. She had been flipped over twice, and was looking for a little payback.

She threw a punch at his chest, and he easily side stepped, and blocked. That... had not been as satisfying as she had hoped it would be.

"When you punch, aim for the face. Hit me in the chest all you want, that's not going to make me give you any sort of respectable fear. You want to punch hard, fast, and in a place that is going to do damage. The face, head, neck, and abdomen are all good areas to punch." He said, walking to stand next to her. "When you punch, you want to turn your hip. That's where your power comes from. "

He showed her, doing a quick punch in the air, rotating his hips like he had mentioned. He went on covering the basic movements for almost an hour and a half. Emily was pleased to see she was picking it up quickly. Even though she didn't quite get the revenge she was hoping for, she had gained a lot of useful knowledge.

"You did really good today, Prentiss."

"Thanks." She smiled, "I've learned a lot!"

"We can do this a few times a week, when you have some free time in the mornings if you'd like."

Prentiss nodded eagerly, "I'd love that!"

After Hotch had collected his things, and donned his suit jacket back on he had made his way back up to his office where his usual counterpart awaited his return. The gala was coming up and he needed to start planning the security measures and obtain a list of the attendee's, and do various background checks. It was a lot to do.

"What's the gala for anyway?" Agent Wade Manelli asked, sitting in the chair across from Hotch's desk sifting through some papers.

"To my knowledge, it's a fundraiser event. They have one every year, Manelli. You seem so surprised." He said, wryly.

Manelli huffed, "Alot of work for clinkin' glasses and makin' nice with people you don't know. I don't get how ambassador's and politicians do it. Makes me nauseated."

"I would be lying if I told you I enjoy them, but regardless..." He handed the agent the list of attendee's. "These need background checks."

Manelli didn't grab it. He just stared as the list fell onto the pile of papers that was steadily growing in front of him. It reflected his level of anxiety.

"That's the list of non-essential staff we have working the gala."

Manelli swiped the papers from the top of the pile like a child and scanned the names. It was a list of catering staff, musicians, waiting staff and more. They were all french companies chosen by the Ambassador's aide to help represent the continued relations with the prime minister and his country.

"Can I just quit?" Manelli muttered, returning the paper to the pile.

"No."

A few hours had gone by, and Agent Manelli had left leaving Hotch alone with his thoughts. He drank some coffee and smiled slightly. He kept seeing Prentiss' face as he flipped her onto the ground. Ahh, it had been _priceless._

For a beginner with little experience, she seemed to be a natural. She picked up on techniques quickly. She couldn't punch her way out of a paper bag to begin with, and now she was throwing them confidently, and correctly.

She seemed genuinely interested to learn to defend herself, and he thought it was a disservice to not teach her something. She had begged him to teach her, and how could he say no to those dark pleading eyes?

_Whoa..._

His body froze in the chair. That was a dangerous thought. Yes, he could appreciate her vivacious spirit, and lean frame, and dark wavy hair that perfectly framed her face...

_Wasn't there supposed to be a but in there?_

He rubbed his tired eyes. Maybe he just needed more coffee. Yes. That was it...

He stood up and made his way to the door, mug in hand. He was about to open it when it came swinging out, knocking his coffee mug onto the floor with a crash. His jaw clenched and his infamous glare went from the mug to the guilty-looking young woman in front of him.

"Prentiss..."

Emily gave him a shocked look. "I am so sorry!" She rushed down to pick up the scattered remains of the mug and only succeeded in knocking her head with his, who had bent down at the same time.

Hotch rubbed his head, and glared at her. Sure, she didn't do this on purpose, but what perfect timing to appear out of nowhere while he was trying to shuffle away his most recent thoughts about her. He brushed her hand away from the broken pieces, muttering he had it. He noted her skin was soft.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were right behind the door..." She apologized, biting her lower lip as she looked at him.

Hotch ignored her apology, focusing on picking the pieces up and throwing them away in the trashcan. He stood and brushed his hands off on his pants.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

They both stood there rather awkwardly for a moment, before Hotch broke the silence.

"Did you...need something?"

Prentiss' eyes widened. "Oh! Yes."

He looked at her expectantly.

"My...mother was wanting to go riding on the property this afternoon, and wanted me to accompany her. I thought I would give you a heads up."

_Riding?_ He scrunched his eyebrows.

"You...have ridden before, haven't you?" She asked, his confusion apparently delighting her from the way her lips turned up into a smirk.

Then it dawned on him. He had heard some of his agents talk about the Ambassador's love for horseback riding, especially before big events. It was her way of relaxing. The property jutted against the outskirts of the streets of Paris, and in the back it had access to miles of woods, and pastures. Of course when she rode, a plethora of agents did as well, and let's just say some weren't quite cut out for it.

He suddenly realized his current assignment was a lot more of a learning curve then what he originally thought. Panic started to rise inside of him, but he squashed it instantly. _He_ was the Head of Security. _He_ could wreck a face with a book. _He_ even moved half way across the world to start over after Hailey left him. How hard could it really be?

He felt the panic return when the scent of horse filled his nose as he walked through the barn. Prentiss and the Ambassador had already begun to put tack on their respective horses. He was just trying to decide which one wouldn't throw him off.

He stopped in front of a tall grey mare. Her long nose poked out over the door and sniffed his hand. He swallowed hard. _This is fine. _His eyes looked up at the mare's. She didn't _seem_ hostile. She seemed relaxed, lazily chewing on some alfalfa. Maybe, she would just walk behind the other horses in a line like he had seen in the movies and everything would be fine.

He heard slow clopping come from the hallway toward him, and saw Prentiss smiling deviously at him as she lead her horse next to her.

"Have you picked one yet?"

He gave her a sheepish look, and uncertainly pointed to the grey mare. _This is fine..._he reminded himself.

Prentiss tied the lead to her horse to a post and walked over to the mare. She gave an approving nod. "She's patient, but...she can be a little independent. _This_ should be fun!"

Hotch snapped his head to face her.

"Independent? What's that mean?" The panic was returning. His heartbeat quickened, and his tie felt too tight. Why was his tie too tight?!

His face was set in a permanent frown. His jaw was clenched so hard, it was beginning to ache. His pale hands held the reigns in a death grip. The smell of the leather saddle did nothing but raise his anxiety level. _This is NOT okay._

Not only did he decide to block out the memory of attempting to mount the horse, he wanted this whole horrible experience to be over with, and they hadn't even left the barn. Prentiss and the Ambassador sat on their respective horses with shit-eating grins.

"I take it this is your first time, Agent Hotchner?" Ambassador Prentiss commented, not bothering to hide the amusement in her face.

Prentiss barked out a very un-ladylike laugh that earned her a disapproving look from her mother, "It's okay. All the agent's struggle when they first ride. That's why horse back riding is so enjoyable for us. We get to see how uncomfortable it makes you guys, and the occasional agent that gets bucked off and lands on the ground in a heap is also quite amusing."

Hotch clenched his jaw even harder. He was _so_ glad they were having the time of their lives, because he would _never _be doing this again.

"Are you ready, Ambassador?"

Hotch's eyes glanced over at the voice and recognized him as Agent David Callahan. He instantly noticed Prentiss become quite tense in her saddle when she heard his voice. He thought this to be the perfect time to observe the two's interactions, momentarily forgetting his terrifying situation.

"Ms. Prentiss."

Prentiss nodded, but said no words.

Callahan then looked over at him. "I never thought I'd be seeing my boss riding a horse! I always pegged you to be a city fella."

Hotch's irritation rose, so he sat up straighter. "Callahan..."

Emily and the Ambassador had begun walking the trail, the two horses they rode walking comfortably next to each other. A soft murmuring was exchanged between the two, and Hotch could tell Prentiss had loosened up a little when Callahan and him acquired some distance behind them. They stayed alert scanning the woods for would-be danger and so far, his horse seemed very cooperative.

Callahan broke the silence.

"How are you transitioning, sir?"

"Excuse me?"

"Having to guard Ms. Prentiss. She can be difficult when she wants to be. Would dodge a lot of our security when she was growing up. You know, rebellious years." He said, almost fondly.

"I'm fine, thanks." He said shortly. Then he added, "I heard you have known the Ambassador and Ms. Prentiss for quite some time."

Callahan nodded, "Almost 10 years now. It hasn't been easy. Especially when I was assigned to Ms. Prentiss. She's a strong-willed one. Has a lot of fire in her... feisty even."

Hotch watched the other agent as he spoke. Callahan stared at Prentiss the whole time, never breaking from her. It made him uneasy. So he decided to do a little digging.

"How long were you assigned to her?"

"Until she left for college. Honestly, I was surprised to see she was back. I was a little disappointing that I wasn't re-assigned to her." He said, turning his gaze toward him. His eyes seemed hard for a moment. "I heard she specifically _requested_ you."

Hotch stared back at him, almost challengingly. "Do you have any idea why she _wouldn't_ want you to be re-assigned to her?" He didn't confirm nor deny his statement.

Callahan scoffed,"No idea. She's coy. Bit of a tease at times. Who knows what goes through her head."

Hotch furrowed his brow. That definitely didn't sit well with him.

"Callahan."

Callahan looked at him once more.

"I'm only going to say this once. Stay away from her."

Callahan smirked, "Lil tough to do living under the same roof."

Hotch glared at him, "If you value your career, you'll find away."

They continued staring each other down until the ambassador's voice broke the tension.

"Come, Callahan. I want to see the strawberry tree's."

Hotch gave Callahan one more warning glare before he watched the two wind down a trail that dissapeared through a thick patch of tree's. He usually would wait to scold or threaten one of his men once he had concrete evidence, but Prentiss' reactions to even being in the same vicinity, and Callahan's inappropriate comments sealed the deal. That was enough evidence to approach him about it.

He noticed a frown on her usual perky face. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, "Leave it to my mother to have a civil conversation..." She turned her horse to walk next to his. "Boring conversation anyway."

Hotch nodded understandingly. He knew her relationship with her mother was strained.

"So...how's your predicament going?" She asked, her frown curling up.

Hotch exhaled heavily. "It's fine."

Prentiss arched her eyebrow, "Your _non-verbal communication _says otherwise."

Hotch shot a glare at her causing her to laugh. It was so abrupt, it scared both of the horses. His mare snapped her head back and side-stepped away from her. Hotch instantly froze in his saddle, and his legs held the mare in a death grip. He didn't even breathe. Prentiss only laughed harder.

"Okay, okay, I'm done." She said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Good, let's head back." He quickly suggested, but Prentiss would be having none of that.

"Nope, the trail goes on for another couple of miles before it starts to head back. Best get comfortable."

Hotch visibly deflated, but kept his opposing thoughts to himself.

If you could push past the potential to be bucked off and trampled to death, he could tell why some people seemed to enjoy it. He would not be one of them.

His mare stopped and pulled away from Prentiss' horse. She saw a scrumptious patch of grass, and began to munch at it.

"Hey! Stop!" He said, frantically, pulling his reigns the other way. The horse ignored him.

"Halt...heel..." He muttered under his breath, frustrated by the lack of control he had in his life at this very moment. He could hop off...he could make a run for it...what if it chased him? Wait? Did horses chase people?

"She's not a dog, Hotch." Prentiss said, shaking her head.

Finally, he won, and his mare decided to walk next to the other horse. Or rather, she got annoyed with him pulling on the reigns that she finally decided to go back to Prentiss.

"You're like a pro already." She teased. "Now for the next challenge!"

Hotch looked at her horrified, "What?"

Prentiss clicked her mouth and broke out into a trot, causing his mare to step up her pace and trot behind her.

Hotch was jostled up and down, he felt like a pinball. The horse seemed more at ease than he did, and she was carrying him! His teeth rattled in his skull.

"Isn't this fun!" She yelled back to him, swiveling to look back at him.

Hotch could only manage to glare at her, as he concentrated on not falling off and ending his short life.

At about mid-afternoon they returned to the barn. Hotch was only too happy as he struggled off of his saddle. Prentiss held his horse steady, as she laughed at him.

Finally Hotch was on solid ground. Sweet. Solid. Ground. His legs felt permanently bow-legged, and his ass was going to be sore for awhile. How did his life ever get so out of control? He looked back at her annoyed, and before he could even say anything, she smiled.

"Payback's a bitch, isn't it?"

_Hope you enjoyed it! Read and review! Tell me what you think! I will do my best to keep posting weekly! Thank you! :3_


	5. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5._

The estate was bustling with activity since before the sun had risen. The Gala was only a day away and everyone was rushing through the halls, the staff maddeningly cleaning, shining, and buffing every surface.

Emily had awoken early as well and was squeezing through the traffic to find her mother. As much as her mother and her got along like hugging a cactus, she didn't want to sit and do nothing. So she had been searching for the Ambassador for the past thirty minutes, but hadn't had much luck finding her yet.

She was starting to get a little frustrated when she noticed one of her mother's adviser's walking toward her.

"Deborah!" She said, raising her voice enough to get the middle-aged woman's attention.

Deborah stopped abruptly when she heard her name and looked around. Her plump face lit up when she saw Emily. The woman was rather short, and had a mousy face. Her auburn hair was always pinned up nicely, and was always wearing a knee-length skirt.

"Ms. Prentiss! Good morning!" She greeted sweetly.

Emily glanced down at Deborah's feet. They were turned away from her.

"Is there something you needed, my dear?"

"Actually, yes. I was wondering if you might know where my mother is?"

Deborah's face pinched as she thought for a moment. She shook her head in dismay, "I haven't seen her today. Did you check her office?"

Emily shook her head, "Not yet, I was on my way there now."

"I'm sure she's there, hun. I've got to go- you have a good rest of the day." She said with finality and waddled off quickly back into the sea of people.

Emily made it to the large oak doors of the Ambassador's office and opened one, quickly glancing around. The room was empty. She walked in, shutting the door behind her. She figured she would wait for her up here, and ask her when she got back.

Earlier, she had decided to ask the kitchen staff if there was anything to be done, and they quickly ushered her out. So she asked the grounds keeping staff and was met with the same result. At least if her mother gave her a task, the staff couldn't shoe her away.

Her mother's office was a cream color, with large windows from ceiling to floor. The room was brightly lit from the elegant light fixtures that adorned the ceiling, and wood floors were stained to perfection.

She walked over to the richly carved desk and took a peak. Stacks of paperwork crowded the surface, along with a laptop, and a small little clay piece. She picked it up and smiled. It was the purple cat she had made for her mother when she was little, or at least it was supposed to be. The ears were too tall, making it look like a bunny with a long tail. Emily was a little surprised she had kept it all of these years, but nevertheless, she carefully put it back.

"Your mother talks about you fondly."

She about jumped out of her skin, and swiveled around to see Agent Callahan leaning against the door. She hadn't even heard it open. She wasn't even sure which one was more disconcerting, the fact he blocked her exit, or the fact that he snuck in without her realizing it. So much for Hotch's observation lesson.

"Where's my mother?" She asked.

Callahan waved his hand away nonchalantly, "She's out meeting with the Prime Minister before the Gala. She will return soon."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "Then why are you here? You're her body guard."

He smirked, "I am her main one yes, but she ordered me to stay here and help with the rest of the preparations." He said, pushing himself off of the wall and walking closer to her.

"Then why are you in here?"

"Emily, you've always been a curious one, haven't you?" He purred, walking slowly toward her.

She was behind her mother's desk, thankful for the small barrier. She straightened up and glared at him, "I think you need to leave. If what you said was true, you should be out there helping to prepare for tomorrow."

Callahan paused and frowned, "Emily, since when have you been so distrustful of me? You used to enjoy my company."

Her eyebrows shot up and she barked out a laugh, "Enjoy your company? You're delusional."

He stalked slowly over to her mother's desk and leaned his hands on it, staring her down.

"Why did you choose Agent Hotchner as your body guard? Do you not trust me anymore, Emily. I'm truly hurt." He said, placing a hand on his chest, emphasizing his words. He feigned pain in his face.

Emily rolled her eyes and shook her head, giving a disbelieving smile, "My God, you don't quit."

"Emily, we never used to have secrets between us..."

Emily felt her face flush red with rage, her anger boiling over the top, "WE NEVER HAD ANYTHING TOGETHER! THERE IS _NO_ US!" She shouted. "You live in this dream world where I like you and you are very much sadly mistaken. I have never liked you, Callahan! Actually the exact opposite."

Callahan straightened and clenched his jaw. "You're in such denial. Why do you deny your feeling for me, Emily? You never used to be this way." He whispered.

Emily shook her head, "You're sick."

His expression darkened and he walked around the desk quickly. Warning bells went off in her head and she quickly backed up. He grabbed her arm roughly. "You will always be mine, Emily. That will never change, The quicker you accept that, the quicker we can be happy."

Happy was far from what she was feeling. She swallowed hard, and snatched his wrist as hard as she could, turned and catapulted him over her shoulder. There was a loud crash as he landed on the desk, and he rolled off pushing all of the piles of papers off. She watched them float to the ground.

That lesson from Hotch sure came in handy quickly, she thought.

Her heart was beating frantically in her chest. She felt a little shocked she actually just did that, but quickly shook that feeling off when she watched him get back to his feet. She ran around the desk toward the door when he intercepted her. He blocked her egress...what did Hotch say about knowing all of your routes of egress? She peeled off to the right and lunged at a window, quickly unlocking it until she felt strong arms wrap around her torso and rip her back around, flinging her to the floor.

The breath was knocked out of her and she gasped for air as he roughly picked her up by her hair. She stopped herself from screaming, because why give him the satisfaction?

"If you don't want me putting a bullet into your precious mother's face, I suggest you never do that again..." He whispered in her ear.

Her eyes widened, and she glared at him, "You son of a bitch-"

He tightened his grip in her hair and pulled, causing her to gasp, "You better start to learn how to behave, Emily. Or things will be going far worse for you and your mother. The times coming really soon, and you better hope I've forgiven you by then..."

She froze, only her breathing betrayed her fear. What the hell did that mean!? He roughly released her, pushing her down.

"Don't even think about telling anyone about this either. I have my men on your mothers security detail. Whatever I tell them to do- they will do without question. They're not loyal to Hotchner- they're loyal to me." He crouched down and said with a smile.

Emily glared at him. "You touch my mother-"

Callahan lifted his hands up in surrender, "Emily...nothing will happen to your mother...as long...as you behave. That means, what just happened today, is our little secret."

Emily scoffed, "Yeah, because the security cameras didn't just pick up you attacking me!?"

Callahan smiled even wider, "What makes you so sure they did?"

She swallowed hard. It probably wasn't all that hard for him to mess with the cameras, after all he was familiar with the system.

He gently grabbed her elbow and helped her up, much to her dislike. "Now, precious kitten, be a good girl. I will see you at the Gala tomorrow evening. Things are going to change, I promise."

_Precious kitten?! _She felt her stomach turn in revulsion.

He then turned and walked out of the room, leaving Emily standing around a pile of scattered papers.

She hurried through the halls, up toward the security office. It seems she had been making frequent trips up there recently, but she quickly threw that thought away. That wasn't important. She needed to find out if that camera had witnessed the altercation. She felt her stomach flutter with excitement. If there was footage of the incident then she finally would have proof to get rid of him once and for all.

She bounded up the stairs two by two, and wrenched the door open. For once, she was pleased Hotch was not in here. She closed it quickly behind her, and made her way, over to his seat. She sat in it and turned the computer screen on.

_Password..._

Crap, she thought. She looked around the desk to find clues. Nothing really stood out. It was almost utilitarian. She actually couldn't find any personal touches to the office at all, not even pictures. She shrugged, well his apartment seemed about the same.

A thought struck her and she rifled through his desk drawers. She did feel guilty about going through his things, but she also had a good reason for it, so she proceeded on. She found a planner and flipped through the contacts. She noted his handwriting was slightly appalling, and hard to read, but he didn't seem like a real techy guy and knew if he had to change his password a lot, he would write it down somewhere inconspicuous.

She laid it down on the desk, and sighed when nothing jumped out at her. First, she tried Hailey's name- I mean, if he still had a picture of her, he obviously still had unresolved feeling for her, right? A red X flashed in the box. She curled her lip. The movies made this look so easy.

_Think, Emily. _She thought about government computers and passcodes. Her mother always complained about having to use so many letters and numbers, so it would have to be a long password. Letters and numbers, she repeated in her head. She looked through the contacts carefully again. Their were only two names he wrote down that only had first names- so they had to have a personal relationship with him, she deduced. One was Hailey's and one was...Sean.

She pondered. Did he have a brother? A friend, perhaps? She tried both contacts' phone numbers, and birthday information. Zilch.

She huffed, and drummed her fingers onto his desk. Looks like she was going to have to bring out the big guns. She picked up the desk phone and dialed a number she knew by heart. It rang a few times, and it went to voicemail. She called again, no answer. Finally, on the third try someone answered.

"I swear to God, whoever you are, if this is not life or death, I will commit you to an eternal lifetime of being in the dark ages..."

Emily smiled, it was good to hear her friends voice.

"Penelope, It's me."

There was a pause on the other end.

"Emily?"

"Yes, I'm calling from my mother's estate."

Penelope Garcia breathed a loud sigh of relief through the phone, "Oh thank God, I thought you were the Feds. They've been on me for awhile."

Emily chuckled, "Why am I not surprised?"

"What is it, doll face?"

Emily shook her head to focus. She could catch up with her later. "Okay, I'm trying to access a computer here, and it's got a password. Can you hack into it?"

A sharp laugh came through the phone, "Please- do you think that little of me? Have I not awed you with my powers from last year?"

Last year she had begun a campaign to hack into the FBI database. She eventually had been successful, but it had come with a lot of trouble. Apparently, they've been dogging her to join them since.

"Look, I'm a little crunched for time, and it would not be good to be seen trying to get onto this computer- so if you can be quick about it..."

"Okay, okay, say no more! What's the IP address?"

"The what?!" Emily scrunched her nose up.

"Oh never mind, I'll just trace the line..."

Emily could hear Garcia madly typing away at her computer. She was humming and finally Garcia clicked her mouth, "Okay...Paris, France...U.S. Ambassador estate...and...got it!"

Emily instantly saw the screen in front of her come to life, in a few moments the screen unlocked.

"Now, what are you looking for on here?" Garcia asked.

"I need to get a hold of some security footage."

Garcia did her magic, and the security program open. Emily smiled with triumph. "You are incredible. I owe you."

"Um, duh., and don't worry about it. Anything else, love?"

"One more thing, can you tell if this program was hacked in some way- besides you?" She asked, while finding the camera that overlooks her mothers office. She zipped back to the approximate time of when she met Callahan earlier. There was nothing. Her stomach fell. It hadn't even caught her entering the room at all. It was if it had never happened. It was just a quiet and empty room.

"Mm let me look, usually each hacker leaves bread crumbs depending on how good they are..." Garcia muttered. "Mm, I don't see any- Oh! Ahhh, yes. Someone's definitely been in here...but, that's weird..."

Emily scrunched her face in concentration, "What?"

"Someone didn't just hack into it. They hacked _onto_ that computer. They were on the premises."

Emily nodded slowly, "No- that's not too weird. I may know who-

The office door opened and Hotch stopped mid-stride, another coffee mug in his hand.

Panic flooded Emily, "Uhhh, thank you so much, Garcia! I _really_ owe you one!" She said, her voice straining.

"You got caught, didn't you?" Garcia asked, already backing herself out of the program.

"Yup! Uh...yeah, It's been pretty good being here so far..."

"Don't worry, babydoll, we were never here..."

Emily was staring at Hotch in a panic. In her peripheral, she saw the programs close, and the screen even went dark, as if she hadn't been snooping around on his computer.

"You are amazing, love you, bye." She rushed, and slammed the phone down a little too hard than she had wanted.

"Prentiss, what are you doing?" He asked, suspiciously.

"I...had to make a phone call." She rushed, standing up quickly. "My friend was just updating me on some extra credit assignments, and boy- I'm glad she did. She's a life saver." She said, laughing nervously.

"There's other places to make a phone call." He pointed out.

"Yeah, you know everywhere has been so busy, I just wanted somewhere a little quieter. Sorry, I didn't ask, I wasn't sure where you went." She explained, picking her thumbnails. "Well, I'll leave you to it- busy day after all."

She swiveled and left the room as calmly as she possibly could, leaving a bewildered Hotch.

Hotch stood there for a few moments, his hot coffee mug steaming in his hand. He looked over at his desk and noticed his planner out. He walked over to it, and saw it was open to the contacts pages. He looked back over to the open door.

He quickly bent over his desk and picked the phone up, re-dialing the last number called to the phone. It rang a few times, but it went straight to a Penelope Garci's voicemail. He looked at the phone for a moment, and hung up.

_What the hell was she doing in here?_

Emily Prentiss practically ran to her room she was staying in. She grabbed her bag, and started to sift through it when she found her knife she always carried with her. She slipped it into the waistband of her jeans, and pulled her hair up in a pony tail. She changed her sandals out for her hiking boots, and grabbed her jacket. It was Paris after all. It rained almost everyday.

She needed to find her mother. She needed to warn her somehow. She looked down at her watch, it was just about noon. She made her way back to her mother's office and made sure Callahan was nowhere in sight. She ran over to her desk and opened the drawers until she found her planner and tucked it into the inside pocket of her jacket, closed the drawer and left.

She made her way through the buzzing hallways and through the grand entryway, when she opened the door to the grounds. She looked back at all of the staff inside, walking with a sense of purpose, making plans and getting ready for tomorrow. The Gala was a huge event they had every year, but this year was going to be different. Callahan was up to something, and it was nothing good. She needed to talk to her mother alone, but that meant she had to _get_ her mother alone.

Wait? Was she essentially thinking about kidnapping her mother? In a weird way, she kind of was. She needed to get her away from all of the agents. She sighed in frustration. This was so weird. It was supposed to be an easy going summer.

She left the estate, and made her way casually to the garage area, where they kept all of the vehicles for them and the agents. She needed to get something quick, and less noticeable. Her eyes fell on a small black motorcycle.

She had learned to ride one her first year of college. She dated a guy who rode all of the time, and taught her when they first met. Back then after she found how he was a sleaze bag and cheating on her with another girl in her dorm, she wished she never had met him- but now, she was slightly thankful.

She smiled slightly to herself, picked up a black helmet and straddled it. Okay, she thought. First, find where she is. She slipped the planner out of her pocket and paged through it. She found today's date and read her mother's cursive handwriting. She had met the Prime Minister at 11:20 at an upscale Paris restaurant called the L'Escargot Montorgueil- it was famous for their traditional snail dishes. She would start there.

Replacing the planner back in her pocket, she turned the engine over and backed it out. She tip-toed it to face the right direction out of the garage when she jumped, seeing a very angry Hotch rushing into the garage. This wasn't good.

She shook her head, and revved the engine, "I'm sorry!" She shouted, and peeled the bike out of the bay, driving around him.

She heard him yell after her, but the garage quickly disappeared and the front gate was coming up fast. A couple of agent's poured out of the front drive's security booth and were waving their arms for her to stop. She winced and sped up, swerving around the men, and ducked underneath the boom barrier. The barrier brushed against her helmet and she whizzed out onto the street. She looked back at what she just did, a little mortified.

_Shit, that was close. _She focused on the street and took the fastest route to L'Escargot Montorgeil. She dodged through traffic with ease as she became more comfortable on the bike, and stopped at a red light. She glanced behind her to make sure no one was following her. When she was satisfied, she looked back.

Guilt started to eat at her. She had agreed to come to Hotch for anything- but could he really be trusted? Was he an ally of Callahan? He didn't seem like he was, but she really only knew him for a week. She had thought about going to him and telling him of what had transpired that day, but the fear of being wrong and her mother getting hurt threw that option out the window. She would do this on her own. It seemed she always did things on her own.

The conversation her and Callahan had in her mothers office replayed in her mind.

"_They're not loyal to Hotchner- they're loyal to me."_

That was strong evidence that Hotchner and Callahan _didn't _see eye to eye, and it was well known Callahan had expected to be Head of Security when Agent Guerrero retired, but she had gone a different route and hired Hotch.

Should she have told him? Would he have helped her? Would he have told her to stay out of it, and handle it himself?

There's no way she was taking the sidelines on this. Her and her mother had a strained relationship, but she was her mother. Emily was going to apart of this- no matter what.

The light turned green and she sped off. She took the appropriate streets and was about a block away. She slowed and took an obscure side street toward the restaurant. She was pondering whether she should leave it here, and observe on foot when she heard another engine pull next to her.

Emily's shoulder's drooped. Who else would it be?

Hotch dismounted his bike. He had taken his suit jacket off before following her and his tie was still blown over his shoulder from the ride. He seemed too angry to fix it. He ripped his helmet off.

"PRENTISS, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" He shouted. Some pedestrians glanced over at them, and then quickly hastened their pace. Prentiss ignored them.

"I HAVE TO FIND MY MOTHER!" She shouted back, ripped her own helmet off, glaring at him.

"She's meeting with the Prime Minister!" He shouted, but lowered his voice slightly. "You would have known that if you would have asked me!"

Prentiss angrily shook her head, "I already know that!"

"What's so important that you had to rush over here to come see her now?" He asked, closing the gap between the two. She stepped back instantly. Hotch noticed.

He breathed hard, trying to calm himself down. "What...happened?"

She looked at him hard, "I can't tell you."

He glared at her, "Bullshit."

Prentiss looked away, shaking her head again, "You don't get it-"

"This wasn't part of the deal." He said, pointing at her. "You said you would notify me if you were in trouble or if you had to leave. _You _agreed to those terms."

Prentiss looked away.

He looked at her and said softly, "You asked me to do this job, so let me do it. I can't if you don't tell me."

Prentiss bit her lip. She glanced up at him hesitantly, "...I want to trust you."

Hotch stared at her for a moment, his hands on his hips. "Trust is earned. It goes both ways."

Both of them stood in front of each other. Minutes slowly dragged by and Prentiss finally hung her head, and hoped she was making the right decision. If something were to happen to her mother...she couldn't bare the thought of it. Her eyes began to water and she blinked it away before tears started to fall. Crying was not an option right now. Her hands fidgeted with her helmet.

He remained silent, patiently waiting.

"I think my mother is in danger." She said lowering her voice.

Hotch furrowed his brow, "What makes you so sure?"

Prentiss retold all of what had transpired that day, and he listened intently. After she was done, she waited for his response. His face was deep in concentration. He exhaled, "I've had my suspicions. I wish you would have come to me sooner."

Prentiss shook her head, "And be told to stay in my room until this was handled?" She scoffed, "Fat chance. I'm not sitting this out."

"Then don't you think your bodyguard needs to know so he can help you figure this out?"

Prentiss stared at him hard. This was very unexpected- but if she was being honest with herself, everything he did was unexpected. So, why was she so surprised? "So...your not stopping me?"

Hotch arched his eyebrow, "Stop you? If what Callahan said is true, we can't afford to involve anyone else, and these allegations need to be investigated. You're coming along."

Prentiss smirked. "Good."

**Chapter 5 is up! Hope you enjoyed it! I added Garcia, and was thinking about adding other characters however I can in the mix. Because whats a CM fic without Garcia, I mean come on. Read and review! Constructive criticism welcome, and appreciated! **


	6. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6_

Thunder clouds began to reverberate overhead, and the sky had darkened. The stark contrast of the traditional white colored historical buildings and the gray sky seemed very foreboding to Prentiss. She really didn't believe in signs from the powers that be, but if she did, this might have caused her to worry.

Who was she kidding? She was already worried. That's why she found herself walking quickly along the congested sidewalks next to Agent Hotchner heading toward L'Escargot Montorgueil. Prentiss was starting to second guess herself. Was the situation as dangerous as she thought it was? Was Callahan just trying to stir her up?

No, she thought. He specifically threatened her mother's life, and threatened her. This was to be dealt with extreme caution, and to be taken _very_ seriously.

Hotch walked slightly behind her, always surveying their surroundings and ready to react if need be. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but she was glad he was here. His presence was quite comforting, and she greedily accepted it.

"When we get there, how do you think we should proceed?" She asked.

"We'll request a table that gives us a good vantage point and observe. She may still be with the Prime Minister, so be aware his security detail will be there blending in with the rest."

Prentiss nodded, "Let's hope he's wrapped it up by the time we get there. Less to worry about. Were going to look suspicious if were caught staring at their table."

Hotch shrugged, "I am technically part of her security detail. They shouldn't give us any problems."

They crossed a crosswalk and arrived at the large restaurant. There was a large golden snail statue that stood proudly over a black overhang. It covered an outside eating area where diners could pay a little extra to sit and people-watch while they ate. A vibrant green ivy intertwined itself along the decorative partition that separated the restaurant grounds and the sidewalk. Hotch glanced up at the large snail before they entered the building.

Prentiss looked at him and smirked, "Ever eaten snails?"

He grimaced, "No, and I don't plan on it."

Prentiss chuckled. _He's in for a rude awakening. _

The ambiance inside was rich with color. They looked around nonchalantly and found the table Ambassador Prentiss currently occupied sitting across from the Prime Minister. Apparently, talks were good because they seemed to be having a pleasant conversation and looked as if they genuinely enjoyed each others company.

The hostess greeted them politely. Before she took them to a table Emily smiled and spoke to her in French, pointing to a table tucked away in the corner not far from the Ambassador. The hostess smiled and nodded, taking them back to the table. She waited for them to be seated before giving them each a menu.

"Merci." Emily said before the hostess walked away.

They opened their menus and pretended to look through them. Hotch scanned the nearby tables. Their attire thankfully blended in with the other businessmen and women eating lunch.

"What do you think?" He asked her, his eyes returning back to their table. He looked through the menu pretending he could read french.

Prentiss eyebrows raised, "Think about what?"

"What did you see when you came in?"

Prentiss nodded in understanding. "Well, my mother seems to be enjoying the Prime Minister's company...a little too much." She muttered as she watched her mother's hand fall on top of his as she laughed at something he had said.

Hotch smirked, "...Perhaps."

Prentiss glanced over at them again, "It's obvious the two men standing by the wall adjacent to them are security. One of them is my mother's. The other is one of the Prime Minister's men. The other's are blending in as patron's of the restaurant sitting at tables around them. I recognize a few of them. I'd say about 6 of them are my mother's."

Hotch nodded approvingly. "The guys that are standing are usually the ones taking point. They're looking at all of the patrons making sure they're essentially minding their own business. If they notice something suspicious they can notify someone who is among the crowd to figure out if they're a threat or not."

"My mother has a total of 5-6 guys typically at any given time for security, right?"

Hotch nodded, "Unless she's in an environment that requires her to have more. Time of day, location, and if she's attending a specific event all dictate guidelines on how many security staff she may have. This is an upscale single floor restaurant, it's before the large lunch crowd, and there's long thick drapes that offer a little more concealment through the windows There should be at least two men roving the entrance and exit- so you should assume there are a total of at least 8."

Prentiss nodded in agreement, "I agree. I didn't notice anyone up front that I recognized, but it's safer to assume."

A waitress approached their table and asked for their drink order. Hotch sat silently for a moment, absently wishing he knew a little french. This really put him at a disadvantage being in a foreign country and not even knowing the basics. He watched in interest as Emily rattled off their order with ease.

The waitress nodded and left.

"How are we going to get my mother alone?"

Hotch pondered for a moment. "If the opportunity presents itself, we will take it."

Prentiss clenched her jaw, "So you're saying we just need to watch?"

"Yes. Prentiss, we have no idea what Callahan has planned. Right now, we are here just to make sure the ambassador is safe and learn about who specifically is involved, and what they're trying to do without alerting them."

Prentiss chewed on that thought for a moment. She knew he was right.

"If her security detail is loyal to Callahan, it may not stop there. We have to figure out _all_ of who's involved, and without raising their suspicion. At this point we can't afford to trust anyone."

She nodded.

The waitress returned with a couple of glasses of water and a sizzling hot dish was placed between the two. Prentiss' eyes lit up immediately, and Hotch gave her a quizzical look.

"What's that?"

She grinned, "Escargot." She said it with a perfect accent.

He pinched his face and immediately put a stop to this. He knew where this was going. "No."

Prentiss laughed, "Why do you think we came to this restaurant, if not for the wonderful aroma of snails?"

Hotch stared down at the dish. It still sizzled. Something was drizzled over the shells and he was about to ask what it was until he saw the inside of the shells.

"That's green- why is it green- are snails green?" He muttered in a low voice, panic beginning to claw its way to the surface. It was like the horse incident all over again. He shook his head.

Prentiss rolled her eyes and grabbed one of the small little forks that were brought with the dish. She stabbed at the shell, expertly scooped it out, and popped it into her mouth. Her smile grew, as she watched his face turn green.

"You don't look so good."

Hotch pulled at his collar. Why was it so hot in here?

"You ventilated your collar, your distressed." She observed, with a smile. Oh, she was enjoying this. Lookie there, she remembered something from his lesson.

He grew frustrated and leaned forward, glaring at her. "Were supposed to be watching your mother." _Well, that sounds weird._

She glanced over at her table. "You said we're here to watch. You can watch and eat at the same time. So...have at it." She ordered, thrusting a fork at him.

Hotch stared at it and it felt like years before he took it. He recalled all of the dangerous things he had done in his life. He could even add the horrible experience of riding a horse, but he was_ NOT _prepared to adding _this _to the list. What had he done so wrong in his life that he had to endure this?

She pushed the dish closer, and a plume of steam wafted into his face. His stomach turned.

"You're stalling."

He glared at her and poked one of the shells. It rocked and watched the green stuff inside move. He threw his fork down.

"No."

There was no way in hell anyone was going to make him eat this. This was not a requirement for the assignment, it was not for the greater good, and no one's life depended on it. He absolutely was not going to eat it!

The waitress came back, with a concerned look on her face. She asked him something. Hotch looked at her confused.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." He said, giving her an apologetic look.

"Oh." The waitress cleared her throat, and spoke in slow, choppy English. "This...no good?"

Hotch opened his mouth to say something, but through a panicked look at Prentiss instead, hoping she would spew some French and make her go away. Make _all _of this go away. Emily looked at him with concern.

"Show her there's nothing wrong with the escargot, _honey_."

Hotch's face turned white. He nervously looked down at the snails and then back at the waitress. She stared down at him with a mixture of confusion and concern.

"You love escargot, that's why we came here. Is it not to your liking?" Emily pressed on innocently.

Hotch gave the waitress a weak smile. Emily would have described it as more of a grimace. He lifted the fork, his knuckles turning white, and scooped the green glob out of the shell. His brow began to sweat, and he mentally prepared himself for what was to come.

The waitress plastered a huge smile on her face and clapped with joy when he finished the deed. "I was afraid you not like. Impossible, at L'Escargot Montorgueil!"

With that, she disappeared. Emily's smile was huge and triumphant. Hotch had his hands on the table, steadying himself. His stomach tossed around like a ship on the high sea. The room was getting even more hot.

"Now you can truly say you've experience Paris."

As the minutes ticked by, Emily had eaten the rest of the escargot and Hotch shifted uncomfortably in his seat as they both continued to observe the ambassador and the Prime Minister flirting at the table.

Emily flicked her eyes over at him in annoyance as she watched him rub the back of his neck and shift in his seat for the hundredth time.

"What, do you have ants in your pants?"

Hotch glared daggers at her. "I can't stop itching!"

Prentiss sat back for a minute in alarm, "Are you allergic to shellfish or mollusks?"

"I don't know- I don't make it a habit of eating this crap!" He shot back in a harsh whisper.

"How was I supposed to know you were allergic!" She spat back, incredulously. "I'm not clairvoyant!"

Movement caught their eye, and they both stopped bickering. Elizabeth and the Prime Minister stood from the table and exchanged a hug, and he kissed both sides of her cheek. She reciprocated as he did this and her security team trickled around her one by one.

Hotch and Prentiss stood. He threw some Euro's down and they walked through the back exit out on to the street, momentarily forgetting about his plight. They walked around the corner and watched her mother get into her vehicle, watching her men enter her vehicle and the vehicle behind it. All seemed within regulations, and nothing seemed amiss.

Prentiss quickly looked into her mother's planner.

"She should be heading back to the estate. She has a three o'clock appointment with some task managers."

They hurried off the opposite direction, where their motorcycles were parked. Their footsteps echoed through the cobblestone and then abruptly stopped.

"Where's your bike?" Prentiss asked, pointing to the empty spot.

Hotch scratched his back vigorously. "You mean your bike. This one's mine."

Prentiss shook her head vehemently, "No, that's...definitely mine."

Hotch walked over and grabbed his helmet, and showed her. "No scrape marks. You skidded underneath the boom barrier earlier, remember?"

Prentiss gave him an annoyed look, "Whatever." She didn't even care about the other bike anyway.

Hotch hopped on, and handed the helmet to her. She took it feeling a little guilty. He didn't have one now. She slipped it on, and got on the back. She scooted up toward him to get comfortable in her seat and her arms circled around his abdomen. A very toned abdomen. She was thankful he couldn't see her face, because she felt it get hot. Or was it because he was hot. Literally, heat was emitting off of him like a furnace. She felt a little more guilty for making him eat the snail.

He revved the engine and zipped out of the alley. She held on tight, her face close to his shoulder. His tie kept fluttering up and hitting her in the face. She kept glaring at it and removed one arm around his waist to snatch it. She realized she grabbed it too hard when his head jerked.

"Sorry! It keeps hitting me in the face." She said.

When they stopped at a red light, he quickly untied it and threw it at her to hold.

"Thank you." She muttered, balling it up in her hand, and holding on to him with both hands.

He wiggled in her grip, trying to scratch his back with her body.

'Really?" She asked, scoffing.

Hotch exhaled sharply. He about had it. If he wasn't choking down snails, she was choking him with his tie, and _she_ was getting irritated with him needing to scratch from the snail _she_ made him eat! She was maddening. As irritated as he was, mostly from the itching, it was hard to ignore her slender arms around his waist. Her chin touching his shoulder every time he slowed down.

"Scratch my shoulder." He said, while raising one up toward her. She laughed and scratched a spot. He reminded her of Sergio, her cat she left back at the dorm. Her roommate was taking care of him while she was away. He contorted his body like Sergio as she kept scratching.

What an interesting turn of events.

The light turned green and they made it without incident back to the estate. The agents at the gates sighed in relief when they saw Prentiss and Hotch return. They raised the barrier and they proceeded through and parked back in the garage.

Prentiss was a little disappointed the ride was over, but she let go of him and hopped off of the bike. She removed her helmet and shook her hair, her ponytail had fallen out during the ride. He left the keys in the ignition and climbed off, scratching at his neck.

He faced her, "I'll go to my office and go through the surveillance system. I'll have Manelli keep an eye on Callahan."

Prentiss nodded, "I'm gonna talk to my mother."

Hotch nodded, scratching his leg.

Thanks, by the way." She said, looking up at him.

Hotch offered a hand under her elbow, "We'll figure this out. I promise."

"What in the fuckity-fuck!" Manelli said, smacking the keyboard in the security office. The screen on the computer had been frozen since he had come in. He combed his hands through his dark hair in frustration, and sat back in the chair. He exhaled, and sat up straight, smacking the computer.

Hotch opened the office door.

"The screen's frozen. Gonna have to get tech guys in here." Manelli muttered.

Hotch closed the door, and locked it. Manelli's curiosity peeked and he sat up.

"What's up, boss? What's goin on? Why is your neck so blotchy?"

Hotch looked at him for a moment, ignoring his astute observation. He had only acquired the position of Head of Security a few months previous, and as much as he wanted to trust Manelli, he had to stay cautious. He had remembered it was Manelli who had brought Callahan to his attention, but he decided to leave Manelli in the dark for now until he knew beyond a reasonable doubt he could be trusted.

"I need you to keep an eye on, Callahan."

Manelli's eyebrow raised, "Callahan?!" He scoffed, "I'm all freaking over it. White on rice, boss. Guy's an asshole."

"I'm not sure...if we can trust him in the position he holds." He said cryptically.

Manelli stood and nodded in thought. "Okay...can you tell me what this is about?"

"No."

Manelli gave a face, and shrugged. "Alright."

He walked around the desk and unlocked the door when Hotch turned around. "Just...be careful, Manelli."

Manelli turned and looked at him seriously, "I trust you, Hotch. If you can't tell me, I'll respect it for now. But, answer me this..." He said, turning toward him and folding his arms. "Is this somethin' that I need to watch my back on?"

Hotch looked at him thoughtfully, choosing his words carefully, "Yes." He said, nodding. "Don't trust any of them."

Manelli nodded, sighed, and left.

Meanwhile, Emily made her way to her mother's office, where she had been earlier that day. She knocked on the door and opened it, seeing her mother's face buried in paperwork at her desk. Her reading glasses rested on her nose.

"Emily! Come in."

Prentiss smiled tightly, and sat down in front of her.

"Well, what do I owe this pleasure?" She asked, laying the papers down on her desk. "It seems you've been here a week and I've barely seen you."

Prentiss nodded absently. She had thought hard about how to broach the subject, so she decided to use some of the interview techniques she remembered reading at school. Starting with the beginning- easy questions, and then leading into the more objective questions.

"I actually wanted to ask you something." She said hesitantly.

Her mother's eyes sparkled, "Oh, young love..."

_Wait, what? _Emily scrunched her face up, "What?"

"Emily...I remember when I was your age, I wasn't always this old, you know."

She looked at her mother confused. She had never done an interview before, but she was vaguely sure this was not how this was supposed to go. "No- that's not what I-"

Her mother raised a hand, interrupting her. "As handsome as he is, and he is a looker- very ambitious- he's still a staff member, and it would be inappropriate-"

"Mother!I'm not talking about him! Stop!" She said, revulsion showing on her face. She was not having this conversation with her, and she would be damned if she was going to control who she kind-of-thought-she-maybe-liked and who she didn't.

Her mother looked at her quizzically, "Oh, well what is it?"

Emily scooted in her chair and faced her, "How long have you known Special Agent Callahan?"

She pondered for a moment, "That's a surprising choice, I thought you would have liked Hotchner."

Her eyes about popped out of her head, "Mother! I'm not talking about that! I asked how long have you known Callahan?"

_Jesus._

Elizabeth raised her hands in defeat, and shook her head, "I don't know...a few years. He was your bodyguard before you left for Yale, don't you remember?"

Emily's eyebrows raised. _How could I forget?_

"Yes, but...since you've known him, have you ever noticed if something was off about him?"

Her mother looked past her, thinking. "No. Why?"

"Do you trust him?" She asked, quickly.

Elizabeth furrowed her eyebrows, "What is it, Emily? Spit it out."

Emily sighed. Nothing was ever easy with her mother. Not even ensuring her safety. She quit beating around the bush.

"Callahan approached me in your office early this morning and threatened your life. Do you know why he would have done this?

Elizabeth sat up straight and looked at her very serious. "That...is a _very _serious allegation, Emily."

Emily felt her anger rise, "You're more worried about if _I'm_ lying to you then him threatening your life? Are you serious right now?" She stood quickly, slapping her hands on the edge of her desk. "He is up to something, mother! He said 'things were changing', and he threatened to shoot you! Are you not upset about that?!"

Elizabeth rose and leaned forward, "Why on earth would Callahan boast about something like that to you? If he was up to no good, don't you think he would keep something like that to himself?!" She shouted.

Emily turned and began to pace, the fury in her continuing to rise in the surface. She was incorrigible. How could she not trust her own daughter? Did she think she just lied about things like this all the time? Did she think she was just playing a game?!

Elizabeth stood up straight and folded her arms, "Callahan is the lead on my personal security team, why would he threaten me?" She asked, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe, because he was jealous he didn't get the position he wanted. Maybe he holds a grudge! I honestly don't know! But what I do know, is that your in danger."

Elizabeth laughed and shook her head, "This is nonsense. I trust Callahan with my life. He's kept me safe for years."

Emily's shoulders drooped, "That's a huge mistake... Please, will you _just_ believe me." She begged.

Elizabeth pursed her lips and whipped around to sit back at her desk. Emily could tell the politician in her mother was about to come out. "Come back when you want to talk about something other than this. It's arbitrary and atrocious. Gossip is _very_ much beneath you, Emily. Now if you'll excuse me, there is a lot of work to do. The Gala is tomorrow evening, and you want to start this nonsense..."

Emily clenched her fists and stormed out of her office.

She walked past the conference room and saw Callahan talking to another agent. He stopped and winked at her.

She curled her lip and sharply turned the other way. She heard him tell the agent to catch up with him later, and knew he started to follow her. She whirled around abruptly, her face red with anger.

"What do you want from me!? What the fuck do you want?!" She growled.

Callahan gave her a confident smile and seemed to tower over her in height. "You, kitten."

Her professional demeanor was really starting to crumble. She wanted to punch his lights out. She wanted to tear his head off and rip his spine from his body. Murderous intent reflected in her eyes causing Callahan to smile even bigger.

"I can't wait to see what you wear for the Gala. I'm sure you will look stunning." He said, touching her arm.

Prentiss felt herself move to the side slightly, breaking Callahan's contact. Hotch stood beside her, his hand resting on her lower back protectively. He looked at her first to make sure she was okay.

He had noticed the two together in the hallway and warning bells had gone off in his head. His gut had twisted when he saw him touch her arm, and could feel the anger bubble up in him. He kept a calm demeanor.

He looked at Callahan casually, "If you're finished with the security details on the Ambassador for tomorrow evening, be sure to leave the paperwork in my office."

Callahan's jaw clenched when he saw where Hotch's hand rested, but smiled at him uncomfortably. "Yes, I'll be sure to bring them up."

Hotch noticed Callahan had no intention of leaving, so he looked at Prentiss, "Sorry for the interruption." No he wasn't... "Your friend, Garcia is waiting on the phone for you in my office."

Prentiss nodded quickly, taking the bait. "Oh, good- I was waiting for her to call..."

The two agents watched as she quickly went upstairs to the security office.

Callahan glanced at him, "Everything...all in order for tomorrow?"

Hotch nodded slowly, "The Ambassador has been quite thorough with her plans for tomorrow night. A lot of guests will be coming, so we need to be hyper-vigilante."

Callahan nodded in agreement, "It will definitely be a night to remember, that's for sure."

Hotch stared at him as Callahan smirked and made his leave.

Prentiss slammed the door behind her and plopped in Hotch's chair. She was fuming. She picked up the phone, but there was no one on the other end. She shook her head. She forgot he had just made that excuse for her to escape.

How did he know about Penelope?

She watched Hotch enter his office and shut the door.

"How did you know about Garcia?" She asked, suspiciously.

Hotch gave her a look, and grabbed a pen from his desk. He used it to scratch his arm quite enthusiastically.

"I re-dialed the last call you made from my phone. It went to a Penelope Garcia."

Emily nodded, and blushed. "Sorry for going through your things."

"You seem to have a habit of doing that." He said simply, but she noticed there wasn't any anger behind it.

Emily at least had the decency to feel guilty. She rested her head in her hands as she leaned on his desk. "What are we going to do?"

Hotch sighed and rested his hands on his hips. "I think its safe to assume whatever he has planned, its going to be tomorrow night."

She peeked up at him, "Why? Did he say something when I left?"

"Yeah, he said it was going to be a 'night to remember'. I've got Manelli keeping tabs on everything he does from now on. Tomorrow I'm going to make last minute changes to Callahan's orders. I'll bench him and have Manelli take point and keep an eye on her. That way I can keep a close eye on Callahan."

Emily nodded in agreement, and then shot up out of the seat startling Hotch. He dropped his pen.

"Shit! I don't have a dress!"

**Chapter 6 is up! I hope you liked it! Please read and review! Tell me what you think! The Gala is less than a day away! What's gonna happen!? I honestly thought this story was going to be shorter, but this is nowhere complete. The Gala is just the tip of the iceberg. Thank you. **


	7. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

Hotch rubbed his tired eyes. The chair he sat in was so uncomfortable, he slouched slightly trying to find a better position. His feet were sprawled out in front of him, and his arms hung on either side. He knew he didn't look professional at all, but at this point- he didn't even care. If he thought he had been in hell before- this was much, much worse.

He glanced down at the few shopping bags that laid next to his chair, and he huffed, looking back toward the mirror. He stared at his reflection with a bored expression. Why did women think this was fun?

He knew he shouldn't be pouting. Men were easy. Throw a nice suit on or a tux, and Blam! You're good. Women on the other hand, had some weird etiquette or code that he never understood. It made things so much more complicated. In the past, Hailey had sometimes made him come along on these shopping ventures, and he liked it about as much as he did now.

He reflected on how stressed Prentiss looked earlier that day when she realized she didn't have a formal dress, and the Gala was tomorrow evening. So, he drove her to a few stores that she knew of, and here he sat waiting for her to try on her umpteenth dress.

It didn't help she was being huffy with him. She kept asking how she looked, and honestly she looked great in all of them-and that's what he told her- but that answer never seemed to satisfy her. So, he did his best to wait patiently...and boy, was it hard.

"Okay, how does this one look?" Emily muttered, walking casually in front of the large mirror, turning around and facing Hotch. The dress was a dark, rich emerald floor length A-line gown. It had two thin straps, and it V'd down her chest tastefully. The skirt was full sized and draped gracefully from the waist, and the bottom dipped low, past her heels that she had bought earlier at a different store. The material shimmered in the light. A high slit was in front on the left side revealing her sparkling silver high heels.

Hotch straightened in his chair and his mouth went dry. She looked absolutely _stunning_ in that dress. As he had stated previously to her, all of the dresses she had tried on looked great on her, but this one blew all of those out of the water.

Her long dark hair was swept to one side, and he watched as she tried to finish zipping her dress up in the back.

"Can you..." She said, blushing a little when she realized he hadn't really answered her question and was just staring at her.

Those words brought him out of his stupor. He quickly stood and carefully stepped over the short train in the back and found the zipper. He averted his eyes as he finished zipping her dress up and then stepped back giving her some space.

"So?"

Hotch looked back up at her with a questioning look.

"What do you think?" She repeated, looking at him through the mirror.

Hotch felt his heart skip a beat when her big, dark eyes met his. He did his best to ignore it and smiled up at her. "You look absolutely incredible, Prentiss."

Prentiss smiled back at him. "Thank you."

Her heart fluttered when he had smiled. Actually smiled. That was the first time she had ever seen a genuine smile on his face and she felt great that she was the one that caused it. She had only known the man for a very short time, but at that very moment she found herself wanting to know everything about him. Her heartbeat quickened when she realized they were both staring at each other. They both averted their gaze to anything but each other.

She turned around a few times inspecting all sides of the gown and nodded, reaffirming to herself this dress was the one.

"Uh, unzip me, please?" She asked, looking up at the ceiling, trying to make it sound as normal as possible.

Hotch obliged and stepped up on the platform and dutifully unzipped her gown.

After a few moments of Hotch listening to the sound of a struggle, she appeared from the changing room with the dress in her hand. She usually wasn't that picky with a dress- almost ever- but for some reason she was looking for the right dress to make him react. Emily chalked it up as a success.

After they had checked out at the cash register, Hotch loaded up her items in the SUV and they both got in the car. He noticed she still had a smile on her face. _All from a dress._ Women were strange, he thought.

"Hotch."

He turned to look at her.

"Thank you for coming with me."

Hotch smirked at her, "Well, I am obligated." He teased.

Prentiss laughed and rolled her eyes, "You were a good sport about it. All of the other bodyguard's I've had would whine the whole time." Except Callahan. She never went shopping when he was assigned to her. He made it down right creepy. He would ogle at her body the whole time and made the whole experience so uncomfortable.

"Your welcome, Prentiss."

"Since I've really put you through the ringer today, why don't we go get some dinner! My treat." She proposed.

"My choice?"

Prentiss nodded, and watched as he thought about it for a minute, leaning on the steering wheel.

"Pizza."

Prentiss laughed, "Wow, so adventurous."

Hotch turned the ignition on and started to drive. "Do they even have pizza in Paris?"

The city was blanketed in darkness by the time they finished eating and got back to the estate. It had been late, and most of the staff had left the premises. The estate was almost eerie after dark. No secretaries hustling to get to their next appointments, or reporters running to and fro from the conference room. It was simply quiet and still.

"So weird..." She muttered, trying her best to quietly lug up a few bags up the stairs. Hotch followed her with the rest of her bags.

"What's weird?" He whispered back.

"This place. I hate it being so busy and chaotic during the day, but it almost feels worse at night."

Hotch scoffed, "Afraid of the dark?"

Emily threw a playful glare and made it up to the top of the stairs. They entered her room and deposited her bags next to a finely carved dresser.

Hotch walked around and examined her room. Prentiss watched him curiously as he searched top to bottom. He checked the lamp shades and picked up an alarm clock, looking at the bottom of it. Emily gave him a weird look.

He placed a finger to his lips and pointed to the clock he had in his hand. He gently set it down, and as he dug in his jacket for a pen, he walked over to her. He scribbled something on his hand and showed it to her.

_Rooms bugged._

Emily's stomach knotted when she read it. She gave him a worried look.

"Before you get to comfortable, come to my office and look through the plans we have for you and the ambassador's security detail. I'd like to hear a rough idea of your plans for that evening so we can accommodate you the best we can." He said non-challantly.

He gestured for her to shake her head, so she did.

"Okay." She said.

They both walked out and down the hall to his office. For about thirty minutes he wrote out some dialogue for her to say as he made up the plans he had for her for tomorrow evening. Hotch didn't want to take any chances. If her room was wired, he was sure his office was too. This would help in case Callahan or his men were listening. They'd give them a fake run down of the details and see if they couldn't use that in their favor. The less accurate information they had, the better.

Hotch scribbled something else on the paper, and after reading it, Prentiss nodded.

"Well, if you don't have any other concerns I think we can call it a night." He said.

"Uh, okay, goodnight then." She said, slightly robotic. They both cringed. He shot her a look, and she brought her hands up in defiance. She wasn't an agent...at least not yet. She was still working on that.

He shooed her out of the room, and exited as well, locking the door. He scribbled on his hand again.

Ten minutes.

She nodded, and walked back over to her room.

As stressful as the situation was becoming, she almost found a small thrill out of it. She felt like a spy- a bad one at that- as she struggled to make the conversation sound decently real. Then she remembered there were listening devices in her room.

_That's just weird. _She glared at the alarm clock, but had to ignore it. She walked over to her suitcase and did what Hotch had written down earlier instructing her on what to do. She grabbed a few sets of casual clothes, a pair of sensible footwear, her passport, extra currency, and her hygiene bag. She began packing meticulously so she would have room for all of it in the small black duffelbag she usually used for day trips. She slipped her knife out of the back of her jeans and watched it plop into the bag.

She was preparing a go bag. _A go bag, _she thought incredulously. When had she ever needed to pack an emergency bag in case shit hit the fan? The moment she stepped foot on the estate grounds earlier that week, her life began to turn upside down. Instead of studying for the upcoming semester and hanging out with her friends, she was sneaking around her own room, packing a go bag and staking out restaurants to spy on her mother. Well, _for_ her mother.

She exhaled slowly. _Her mother... _

Emily and her mother had a very rocky relationship. Ever since she could remember she was never really a priority to spend time with unless it benefited her mother in some way. She was an ambassador and was always traveling, uprooting the family, or just holed away in her office. Very few times did she ever have good wholesome conversations with her.

Her mother would often scold her, or try to perfect Emily in every little way, when all she wanted her mother to do was to take off the politician facade for a while and spend quality time with her. Even since being back, she had had little one-on-one time with her. Emily liked to think that when her mother tried to talk to her, if she didn't know what to say, she would tell her not to slouch, or don't mumble, in hopes she might understand it was her way of showing affection. Which, if that was the case, would suck. Emily didn't need to be preened to be the perfect ambassador's daughter. She just wanted to be good enough and worthy of a conversation past, 'How are you?'

Tears pricked her eyes. She angrily wiped her eyes and sniffed. She huffed, and zipped her bag up, slinging it over her shoulder. She glanced down at her cheap watch and quietly slipped out of her room.

A soft knock came at Hotch's door. He walked over and opened it wide, allowing Prentiss to duck under his arm and slip inside.

She looked around. It was a separate living area, complete with kitchenette, and bathroom. Looking around, she saw he hadn't unpacked much. All of the boxes they had packed were lined along the walls, waiting to be opened.

She followed him over to a little table and he pulled a chair out for her to sit. She smiled in thanks and sat down. Her eyes followed him as he disappeared for a moment and emerged with two duffel bags.

"Are you all packed?" He asked.

She nodded, and set her bag on the table.

He set both of his down next to hers and opened one. He grabbed a bullet proof vest out of one and handed it to her.

"We don't know what we'll be expecting, so it's best to be prepared. This room is safe to talk in- I'm the only one with access to it, but I combed through it just in case." He said, rummaging through his bag again and this time took out a pistol safely tucked away in its holster. Prentiss' eyes gleamed.

"Have you ever shot a gun?" He asked, a little hesitant.

Prentiss looked at the gun quickly and then back at Hotch, "Yes, I have- do I get to keep one!?"

Hotch pondered a moment. _Is this really a good idea?_ Probably not. But, he thought it was very necessary. He scratched his head a minute, and looked at her squarely.

"How many times?"

"A few times with Agent Guerrero. My mother never found out. I was a decent shot!"

Prentiss held her breath until she saw him sigh and placed it in her duffel bag. "Do not use this unless you know you're about to come to bodily harm- is that clear?"

Prentiss grinned, and enthusiastically shook her head. "Of course."

"Best case scenario, you never have to use this because I'll be there to protect you- but if something happens to me or we get separated then at least you'll have something to defend yourself." He said while placing 4 loaded magazines next to it. "There's five mags total, all loaded. That should be more than enough."

He picked up an empty mag from his bag and gave it to her. "Show me."

Prentiss smiled and quickly unholstered the gun, made sure it was on safe, released the full magazine that had been inside of it, cleared the chamber watching the bullet pop out on the table, slid the empty one in, and racked the slide back. She looked at him triumphantly.

Hotch smiled, "I'm impressed."

He took it back, and loaded the Glock back up, holstering it, and tucking it back in the bag.

"I'm not a distressed damsel, I can handle myself."

Hotch smirked, "Of course."

He pointed to the vest that he had given her, "Put that in your bag. These go bags will be waiting in the SUV, so if we need to get out, they'll already be here waiting for us. I'm going to leave the SUV somewhere easily accessible."

Prentiss nodded, and shoved the vest in her bag. She cleared the table off, and set the bags on the floor next to them. Intertwining her fingers together, she looked up at him more seriously. "So, what's the plan?"

"This plan has to be flexible, and able to change. Since we don't have a clear idea of what he's doing, one thing we need to remember is if something happens, where to go." He pulled out a couple of maps that showed the layout of the estate. "During the Gala, we have to assume the front entrance will be too congested to make a getaway, _if_ it's necessary. The drive and the streets nearby will be completely packed, so the north side toward the barn and the woods beyond seems to be a viable option, but there aren't any roads."

Emily leaned closer to see. "We may not need roads..." She looked up at him with a mischievous grin.

They discussed their plans for another half hour until she heard the upstairs grandfather clock chime, reminding her that both of them needed to get some sleep.

Prentiss bit her lip, and hid her hands underneath the table. Now was as good a time as any to ask. "Uh, Hotch?"

He looked up at her from clearing the table. He watched her face go from the confident and smart woman he was used to seeing, to a very insecure and nervous one. His curiosity piqued. "Yes?"

"Uh, would it be okay if...well, since you found those listening devices in my room..." She trailed off. "I just thought maybe I could...not...sleep there."

Hotch stared at her for a minute and then it dawned on him what she was requesting. He understood why she felt that way, and he didn't really blame her for not wanting to stay in her room. Who would want to be in there knowing some creep's listening to everything you do? He nodded, and immediately saw the relief that washed over her.

She rubbed her arms, and offered him a thankful smile. "Thank you."

"Sure."

He nodded over to the back room and she stood and followed him. He opened the door. It was a comfortable size. There was a bed and two bedside tables stood on either side of it. It still looked like he was unpacking things in there as well, as she noted the few boxes along side the wall. He began to regret getting rid of his couch.

"The bed's yours."

Prentiss quickly shook her head, "Oh no, I can sleep on the floor. I'm already putting you out." She said quickly, claiming a pillow as hers.

Hotch grabbed her pillow from her and tossed it back on the bed, and gave her a stern look. She shook her head again and placed her hands on her hips.

"No way, your not sleeping on the floor, and I know you won't let _me_ sleep on the floor. So, let's just skip ten minutes of arguing and share the bed. We're adults, and the bed is plenty big enough." She said nonchalantly, swiping her pillow back up and hugging it.

Hotch found himself staring at Prentiss. What an odd turn of events. He realized he was saying that to himself more and more when it came to her. He scratched his head uncomfortably, and let his arm fall back down to his side. If the Ambassador found out about this, he would most certainly be fired, and that was the best outcome.

"Fine."

Prentiss clapped her hands in thanks. She rushed over to her go bag and grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt to sleep in and zipped to the bathroom before he could get in first. Besides, she would be quick.

Hotch sat on the side of the bed, staring at the bathroom door. With tomorrow only about six hours away he rubbed his face. His stomach knotted. He'd been getting a bad feeling about it since Prentiss had finally told him about the situation. Something was going to happen tomorrow night- it was just a matter of what. He needed to make sure Prentiss and the Ambassador's safety were his top two priorities.

Nothing was ever routine with any Prentiss, he mused. The day Prentiss arrived on estate grounds his life had just gotten strange. Though, if he was honest with himself, it wasn't a bad strange. He found he enjoyed her company more and more. She was smart, funny, adventurous, and stunning in that dress.

He mentally berated himself. _You're an idiot, Hotchner. _Those thoughts were popping up in his head more often than not. It was dangerous territory, and quite unprofessional. She was his charge and he needed to respect that.

Prentiss opened the door and ruffled her hair as it framed her face in relaxed waves. She would have worn something else with a little more coverage, but she had only packed shorts in her bag.

"Your turn."

Hotch had completely forgotten what he had just been thinking about moments earlier. His head was fuzzy and he couldn't form his thoughts. She looked so beautiful in whatever she wore, and her eyes seemed to brighten when she looked at him. Or, maybe that was his imagination.

He shook his head as she spoke, and he jumped up from the bed disappearing into the bathroom.

Prentiss looked at him weirdly and shrugged. She wasn't in there that long. She climbed into bed. _His bed. _She laughed at herself. She needed to get a hold of herself. She wondered what side of the bed he was going to sleep on, and decided she'd just scoot all the way over.

She fluffed up a couple of pillows and sank her head down on top of them. They were down pillows. She liked these. She noticed the pillows smelled like him. She liked this too. _Oh Emily, get a grip! _She rolled her eyes.

She started feeling a little guilty about asking to stay in his room. She had other rooms she could have bedded down in for the night beside her bedroom she was staying in, but none really felt safe. He always made her feel safe, and taken care of. That's his job, she reminded herself. She shifted to get comfortable.

Hotch opened the bathroom door and stood beside the bed somewhat awkwardly in his sweat pants and night shirt.

"Do you have enough pillows or..."

Prentiss chuckled, "Yes, Hotch. Thank you. I'm fine."

This was strange, albeit slightly enjoyable to her- but he clearly was having reservations about the whole situation.

He nodded and climbed in, laying on his back. They both stared at the ceiling in silence. The fan whirred slowly above them. After a few minutes, she couldn't take it anymore and turned toward him.

"So, why did you come to Paris? You're from Virginia, right?"

Hotch's heart lurched when she suddenly broke the silence for a game of twenty questions. Normally, he refused to talk about his personal life because that's something he always separated from work- but he seemed to be compelled to tell anything Prentiss asked about him these days.

"Uh, yeah I grew up there. I came here because they were offering a job I wanted. I'd never been out of the country before and since I didn't really have anything tying me down I decided to apply for it."

She nodded in understanding. She remembered how upset he got when she had found his ex-wife's picture. She could understand wanting to get away from it all, better than most people.

"Traveling was all I did growing up. Through Europe and the middle east. It seemed every time I made any friends I ended up having to leave them shortly after. It sucked. You know, as a kid you just want to be a kid. Anyway, by the time I was done with school, I was ready to go back to the States I had my bags packed and ready before I even told my mother I bought a plane ticket." She chuckled softly, recalling her angry mother's face. "She was so mad I didn't tell her I was accepted into a university. That's where I made my first permanent friend."

Hotch gave her a confused look. "Permanent friend?"

She smiled. "Yeah. A friend you actually get to hang out with, build a relationship with and keep it. Instead of moving half way around the world and then they forget about your existence. She's gotten me through a lot and she's so reliable."

"Is that the Garcia girl?" He asked.

She nodded, "Yeah. She's...very eccentric." Laughing as she described to him what she looked like, and dressed like. "What about you? Got friends back home?"

Hotch shrugged, "Not really. The one's I grew up with have lives of their own and I know it's shocking, but I am what you would call a workaholic."

Prentiss laughed, "I don't believe that for a minute...You? No." She pulled the blanket up higher over her shoulders. "What about Sean? Who is he?" She had remembered that name from his planner contacts in his office she had shamefully snooped through for the greater good, she quickly added.

"He's my younger brother."

"Oh, are you two close?"

He thought for a moment before he responded. They had used to be close. Back when they lived with their dad and only had each other to rely on. He had protected his brother from his father's drunken fury for most of their lives growing up- having ended up in hospitals multiple times because of it, but after they had gone their separate ways after high school things had changed. He found Sean had gotten hard into drugs. He did his best to help his brother out, and their relationship became strained because of it. He had checked in on each other only once in awhile after that. That was about three years ago.

"We were. I haven't talked to him in about three years."

She cocked her head, "How come, If you don't mind me asking."

"He got mixed up with drugs. I did my best to get him help and support him, but he refused to stay clean. We didn't have the greatest childhood, but that's not an excuse."

"I'm sorry to hear that." She said, not wanting to pry any further. From his serious facial expression she could tell it was a sensitive subject for him.

"Yeah, me too." He said finally.

After a few more minutes of conversation they decided to try to go to sleep. Hotch turned on his side away from her, and she turned toward him. After awhile her feet slowly made their way toward him. Her feet were really cold, and he was like a furnace. They seemed to have a mind of their own, and she was just too tired to get socks from her bag.

Hotch felt something ice cold on his back and he arched like a cat getting sprayed with water, he threw the covers off and looked over at her. A guilty look was plastered on her sleepy face. "They're cold..."

He gave her a withering look that did not seem to faze, nor deter her. Her feet wedged underneath his legs, and she burrowed her face in the pillow. "Just...accept it." She mumbled, falling back asleep.

He rolled his eyes and got up, getting a pair of socks from his drawer and threw them at her. She made an annoyed noise and snatched the socks from the covers.

"Rude." She muttered.

He got back into bed and stared at her in astonishment. Really? He was rude? She planted her ice cold feet on his back and he was the rude one? He watched her struggle slipping on the socks while still trying to fall asleep. He laid back down and they both shifted until they were comfortable.

After a few minutes he had almost fallen asleep when he felt a second assault at his back. He didn't even bother turning around. With the socks her cold feet were tolerable and he decided to let it go and fell into a dreamless sleep...

_Sorry it took a little while for this chapter! Please review! Next chapter is the Gala! :D_


	8. Chapter 8

The alarm blared throughout the quiet room. Emily's eyes cracked open and she noticed it was still dark outside. Why was her alarm going off? She turned away from the warmth of her bed and slapped at the bedside table successfully silencing it. That's better, she thought.

She slipped back into the thick comforter and burrowed back into the warmth. Her eyes closed and she snaked her arm back around where it had been, her leg draped over something solid and warm. She fell back into a dreamless sleep.

Her body suddenly was lurched up and she was thrown half-hazardly to the side, covers and all. Emily's eyes snapped open, her heart beating wildly when she tried figuring out what was going on. Her brain took a moment to realize she was watching her bodyguard flying through his room, scrambling to get ready for the day. She watched him with a confused expression as he seemed oblivious to her presence. Why was he in such a rush?

She was about to ask him when the words died in her throat as he frantically stripped his clothes off and dashed into the bathroom. She heard the squeak of the shower as it turned on. Emily felt her face redden as she sat up in bed still processing the image that was forever ingrained into her brain. His body was so muscular, and his ass... A smile crept on her face. She would be sure to stow away that happy image for later. She stifled a laugh when her eyes landed on the clock.

"8:45!" She shouted.

She dashed from the bed and into the bathroom. She heard Hotch almost slip and fall in the shower when she came crashing in, but she paid no mind as she went for the toilet.

"Don't look!" She shouted.

"What!? I'm not-" He sputtered as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on this morning. It was bad enough he didn't remember his alarm clock going off, but now she was barging into his bathroom, almost causing him an early demise. Thankfully the hot shower was steaming up the place quite nicely and he turned his back on her so he could keep some privacy.

The toilet flushed. "I don't know why your bothering, I saw everything before you ran into the shower." She said, smirking. She quickly washed her hands and left.

She heard the shower squeak off a few minutes later when she had finished getting dressed. He walked out quickly with his suit pants on and an undershirt. He ripped open his closet door and snagged a dress shirt off the hanger, quickly putting it on.

"I'm sorry, I forgot you were in here." He muttered as his fingers worked quickly to button up his shirt.

Emily would have taken that comment personally under normal circumstances- but this was not a normal situation. She ran a brush through her hair and put it up in a messy ponytail. She smiled evilly, "I'm not."

He threw her a look as he tied his tie. He looked back at the clock, his hair still dripping water. The estate would already be full of people scrambling for last minute preparations. Hotch's mind began to reel of all of the possible ways to sneak Prentiss out of his room. He couldn't just open the door, and let her waltz right out of there. The estate was full of press members who wanted juicy details about the Ambassador and her family's life- and an alleged sex scandal was not on his list of things that could potentially can his career, and ruin Prentiss' reputation. He imagined himself being re-assigned to Antarctica.

Hotch glanced over at her without her noticing. She wasn't the type of woman who any respectable man would ever want to sneak out of his room. He felt stupid for feeling guilty, it's not like they did anything.

Emily slipped her shoes on quickly, and had a different shirt on then what she had worn last night. She had taken it from her go bag and stowed away her dirty clothes, zipping it up and leaving it on his bed. She through him a knowing look.

"I know." She said winking, "Leave it to me." She was an expert at sneaking around after all. She looked at her watch. It wouldn't be too far-fetched to be taking a morning stroll at this hour...

Hotch felt worried when she ran over to the window in the living room. It was high on the wall, but it was ground level on the outside. She could see the grounds around her, and the courtyard where they had trained a few days prior. She unlocked it and cracked it open, peering around for any people nearby. When she was satisfied she looked back over at him. "Coast looks clear, give me a boost!"

He bent down and wrapped his arms around her thighs, hoisting her up. She poked her head out and grabbed at the grass to help pull herself up. She wiggled her waist through the small opening until she was able to pull herself completely up. Looking around again seeing her surroundings void of agents, she turned around and squatted down to look back at him. "Thanks for the socks!"

He opened his mouth to say something when she stood and casually walked around, as if she had been going for a morning stroll throughout the grounds the entire time, waving to a few agents who bid her a good morning as they rounded a corner within sight. Hotch shook his head and firmly shut the window. He finished getting ready in record time.

The office door opened and Special Agent Wade Manelli peered up at his superior from the mountain of paperwork that seemed to have a permanent residence on his boss's desk. A large grin spread across his face when he saw his hair was still wet, and looked at the clock.

"Late night, boss?"

Hotch gave him him a withering glare and said nothing as he walked across the room and picked up a pile of papers. He looked through them quickly, and then planted them back on his desk.

"Do you have anything on Callahan so far?"

Manelli's grin vanished quickly. Back to business. He stood from Hotch's seat, and sat on the corner of his desk facing him. "He's been having frequent meetings with the Ambassador's little security detail he's in charge of. I couldn't get close to overhear anything, but I agree, he's up to something. So, I decided to look into the last few month's logs of gear that had been checked out of supply, and I noticed a lot of misplaced gear missing. I didn't start asking if they knew anything about it in case they got a whiff we're on to them, but I guarantee they got something' to do with it."

Hotch nodded, taking in this new information. His face pensive.

"A lot of the gear are subtle items like a kevlar vest here, a couple mags there- but within three months time they have quite the arsenal stocked up for their little party." Manelli added.

"Why wasn't anyone notified about gear discrepancies?"

"Seems like Callahan's man, Agent Vallarta runs it, and he's not gonna rat out any oopsies they'd been doin'." Manelli replied, rubbing his chin. The whole thing was becoming blatantly disconcerting.

Hotch suddenly snapped his head up. "Do you have an exact list of the items missing?"

Manelli stood and turned around, slipping a paper out from a few piles, "Here. It only goes back three months- I can get tech's on it to find out how far back were dealing with." He handed it to Hotch.

"Go back at least 6 months. If we can figure out exactly what they took and how much, it could help figure out what were going to be up against."

Manelli agreed and walked out of the office.

Hotch sank into his chair, and rubbed his neck. The Ambassador needed her detail switched. He wasn't going to leave Callahan in charge of her safety- though _he_ didn't need to know that. Hotch needed to find someone he could trust- and as sad as it was to say, he didn't have anyone really screaming trustworthy on that level. He had only been in this position a short amount of time, and he was realizing with an overwhelming amount of frustration how many agents seemed pretty chummy with Callahan.

He decided to phone an old friend. There was one agent in particular he had known and respected a great deal who had said he knew Special Agent Wade Manelli back in the day. That was a good place to start, only he had to be careful. If the phones were bugged like he thought they were, he was going to have to dance around to get some information.

He took out his contacts book and thumbed through the pages when he found it and dialed the number quickly. He cradled the phone between his face and shoulder, and leaned back in his chair. He listened to the monotony of ringing when a familiar voice filled his ear.

"Booth."

"Hey, Booth. It's Hotch, how are you?"

"Hey man, I'm good. Busy with the Smithsonian. It's been a lot more action than I anticipated. How have you been?"

Hotch smirked, "Yeah, I've heard it mentioned in the news a few times..."

They got the pleasantries out of the way and took a couple of minutes to catch up before he dove into his questions.

"I have a few questions I was hoping you could answer for me." Hotch asked, watching the phone cord bounce around as he shifted in his chair.

"Shoot."

"Special Agent Wade Manelli mentioned knowing you before he joined the FBI. I was wondering if you could tell me how long you've known him and a little bit about his work ethic. I recently got assigned to his Embassy's command and was looking for a little insight."

Hotch had known Special Agent Seeley Booth for a few years now. He was one of the best sniper's the Bureau had to offer, and had competed against him multiple times during sharpshooting competitions. He had transferred over to violent crimes and got wrapped up in a bureaucratic plan to partner with the Smithsonian in D.C. in an attempt to re-investigate cold cases.

A warm chuckle came across the line. "Manelli? I've known him for years. He was an outstanding medic in my unit, and he's saved my ass on more than one occasion. I trust him with my life, Hotch. You're lucky to have him on your detail."

Hotch let out a breath he didn't even realize he had been holding. "That's good to hear. He's been very reliable so far. Atrocious at tying ties, but he gets the job done."

Booth's laugh filled the phone, "He's trustworthy, Hotch. Don't worry about him. I know you don't call for 'insight' so I'm assuming there's something your not telling me. "

Hotch sighed, "Perhaps. I'll take your word for it though. Thank you."

"Look man, watch your back- and don't do anything I wouldn't do..."

Hotch smirked, "That's horrible advice- because there's _nothing_ you wouldn't do..."

"Haha, true- Hey, hey, hey- Don't touch that- get out of here, Sweets. I gotta go Hotch! Call me when you can talk."

"I will, thanks again."

With that, Hotch hung up the receiver and left the office, glancing at his watch. The Gala was set to start at 20:00 sharp, and him and his men were needed on standby at least three hours prior, so he had roughly 8 hours to set up arrangements.

As he walked through the crowded hallways he spotted Manelli and called him over to a more quiet corner.

"What's up, boss man?"

"I need to know the Ambassador' safety is in hands that I can trust, so tonight your leading her security detail. We need to go over emergency procedures and agreed safe house locations if something happens to where she needs to leave the premises. Callahan has a manifesto of the previously agreed locations- so we need to change them. Only you and I will know her real safe house location, do you understand?"

Manelli nodded, "We can go over them now if you want, I got time. What about Ms. Prentiss? I take it your taking the same measures?"

"Yes. If we have to leave, the safe house locations will be separate. I'm on my way to arrange vehicles and gear in certain locations so we have access to them if things fall apart." Hotch said.

"Sounds like we have a lot of work ahead of us..." Manelli muttered, and flattening his tie. Gala's were a lot of work, he reflected.

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed and echoed into Prentiss' room as she quickly made last minute touches to her appearance. She chuckled as she tightened her thigh holster and slipped one of the compact Glocks Hotch had given her into the hard plastic holster. She let the skirt of her emerald green dress fall and smiled to herself pleasantly as she approved the weapon was concealed properly.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her lipstick had smeared from biting her lip too much. The roller coaster wave of nervousness was creeping up again, and she did everything she could to squash it back down. She had to be on her game. Tonight was the night Special Agent Callahan, the sleaze ball, was going down. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her dark hair was swept to one side of her shoulder in relaxed curls. She fixed her dark lipstick and attached the emerald and diamond earrings her mother had given her a few years ago from Italy. She exhaled heavily.

"You're too beautiful to be sighing so deeply."

She smiled widely when she saw him through the mirror approaching her.

"I guess I'm a little nervous." She said, turning around to face him and folding her arms.

Hotch nodded slowly in understanding, "Don't worry- I'll be watching you the whole night."

Emily chuckled, "That would sound very creepy if that came from anyone else."

She watched his cheeks turn pink. "You know what I mean..." He muttered sheepishly.

Emily watched him squirm to her delight. God, how on earth was this sexy man single? Her eyes roamed him greedily. His black tuxedo was pressed perfectly, down to his shined shoes. His earpiece clipped to his left ear. A wave of lust replaced her nervousness. My god, he was handsome.

He scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat, "Did you wear what I gave you?"

Her eyebrow arched, and she walked slowly toward him, "You know...most men would give me jewelry or flowers. As surprising as it sounds, this is the first time I've ever been given a gun to wear."

Hotch swallowed hard, feeling his heart skip with every step as she walked closer. Her eyes stared at him and he watched her ebony curls bounce with every step. Her dress moved rhythmically as she swayed her hips. She looked like a goddess. Confident, dangerous, and seductive.

She stopped a few inches away from him and her eyes lingered on his lips. He watched her delicate fingers lace around his bow tie and straightened it out. She smiled as if she approved of what she saw and stepped back, raising her dress slowly. "Let me show you."

His heart thundered in his chest. His emotions conflicting with his sudden drive to take her and kiss her. He launched himself toward her and grabbed her wrist, disappointing himself and her. "I-I'll take your word for it." He muttered in a low voice, looking everywhere but her.

The professional in him outweighed his racing heart. _You're such a chickenshit. _He needed to get his act together and focus on the situation at hand, not on his growing feelings for her. She made it so damn hard to stay objective when those intelligent eyes would sparkle at him.

Though, Emily's eyes were full of annoyance, not sparkle, as she let the hem of her dress fall back down and eyed him impatiently.

So he was going to play hard to get? Silly him, she thought. A Prentiss always gets what she puts her mind to.

The door opened and the Ambassador popped in, dressed in a deep purple dress and jewels she received from the French Prime Minister. She gave Emily a toothy grin and cooed over her attire.

"Emily, darling, you look just ravishing." She said, giving her another once over. She fixed her hair slightly and nodded her approval which Emily reciprocated.

"Big night, huh?"

Her mother nodded as her eyes crinkled in delight. Her mother was very much in her element at these Gala's, and sometimes during times like these, Emily wished she would have had some of her mother's skills when it came to mingling with dignitaries, and laughing at dry jokes. She just hoped it wouldn't end up like last time, when she spilled the champagne all over the the President of The Republic of Ghana. He was a good sport about it, but her mother was furious with embarrassment.

Emily took a deep breath and looked up at her mother, "Okay." she said. She was ready as she would ever be.

The Ambassador smiled again, and linked arms with her daughter as they walked gracefully out into the awaiting crowds..

"Big smile, Emily. Big smile."

2 long hours went by as Emily silently begged every Deity she knew of to make it end, but the Gala continued. After the beginning toast, and welcoming each of the dignitaries, and important guests, and dining on some fancy chicken and stringy looking vegetables, she was almost done making the rounds to each little clique that had formed around the foyer. So far, everything had gone well. No embarrassments, and no terrorist plot. Looking good so far.

She had often found herself looking around to see if she could spot Hotch, but it seemed he was busy behind the scenes making sure everything was going smoothly. He's doing his job, she thought, so do yours. She gave an annoying huff, and gathered her patience and walked up to the next group with a smile.

Music and laughter echoed throughout the vast room,and the voices bounced about the richly wooded paneled walls. If she was a natural politician, she probably would have been enjoying this delightful soiree, but she must have missed that bus. She berated herself a few times to pay attention, as she slow danced with the ever so stuffy Croatian dignitary. His thick accent droned on and on about his achievements and successes. She smiled politely and nodded as he swayed her too and fro.

God, she felt like she was at a lavish middle school dance.

She continued to dance stiffly as the holster strapped to her thigh had been chaffing her leg for the past 45 minutes, and her feet were killing her.

"May I steal this dance, Mr. Pavlovic?"

Emily mentally shook the cobwebs that had collected in her head from the mindless conversation as she watched the very man she detested walk up to them and her heart sank even deeper. Great...

"Of course! Hvala." The dignitary said, planting his wet lips on her hand, and bowing respectfully. She curtsied back.

"May I-" Emily interrupted Callahan before he could even finish. "No." She said with finality.

Callahan gave her a tight smile, "Why do you fight me kitten?"

"Why do you insist on calling me such pathetic names? You're revolting." She said bitterly.

"Perhaps when the real festivities start, you'll unwind a little." He uttered softly as he leaned into her.

Emily stared at him coldly.

"Ah, it seems I have your attention now." He offered his hand and waited patiently for her to take it.

She cringed as she felt his hand in hers, and they began to dance to the slow rhythm. She felt her skin crawling as he placed his hand on her waist.

"You look like a goddess, Emily."

Emily felt like she was going to vomit. Never mind, she thought, him saying her name felt worse than whatever pet name he insisted on calling her. She pushed all of her nervousness down and focused. She could use this opportunity to get information.

"What festivities are you intending to start?" She asked quietly, scanning the crowd around her.

"It wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you now, now would it?" He tutted lightly. "Everything in good time, Emily."

She looked up at him for a brief moment, trying to read what was going on inside that stupid head of his. He wore arrogance like a mask and continued to sway her ever growing chapped legs.

"I will say...it will be when you least expect it. Those are always the best surprises." He said, winking at her. She rolled her eyes and forced herself not to punch him in the face. As the continued in silence the seed of fear was continuing to grow inside Emily's gut. What did that mean, when she least expected it? Was it going to happen tonight? Were they going to have to wait weeks or even months until this thing burst open?

"Prentiss."

Hotch's familiar voice snatched her out of her spinning thoughts and she quickly peeled herself off of the lech. She gave Callahan one last pensive look until she turned and gave Hotch a grateful smile. Callahan disappeared into the crowd without a word.

"Thank God." She sighed. "I thought I was stuck with him for the rest of the night."

"I wouldn't have done that to you." He said, as they naturally held each other and began to dance. "Did he tell you anything?"

Her dark curls shook, "No, but he did say 'the festivities would start when I least expect it'. Whatever the hell that means." She said, rolling her eyes. "God, he's such a creep, do you really think he's going to try something, or is he just getting his jollies off by freaking me out?"

"I've been watching the rest of the agents tonight and they've been a little too uptight. Callahan keeps roving back and forth between his men, all conveniently stationed on the south side, thanks to me. I thought his head would pop off when I changed up his detail. Manelli is keeping an eye on the Ambassador closely. She's in good hands. All we can do is is be prepared, stick to the plan, and react as best we can. I've set up separate safe houses for you and your mother in case we need to leave."

Emily nodded, "Stick to the plan..." She muttered. "Just stick to the plan."

He looked down at her and smiled, "Is Emily Prentiss nervous for her first mission?"

Her chest fluttered and leaped when he said her name, and she smiled up at him, "I may get cold feet when I sleep, but I never bow from a challenge. You don't have to worry about me." She said playfully. She leaned into him and her lips brushed against his ear, "and Hotch..."

He turned his head just slightly so that he could look at her. A small smile gracing his features. "What?"

"You're a cuddler."

_Hello! I am so sorry for the delay! I am back at it and will have another chapter up hopefully at the end of this week. Action starts next chapter and the romance can finally begin. 3 I know, you guys have been so patient. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Stay tuned!_


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

He checked his watch. It showed 11:43. His irritation began to rise, as it had consistently throughout the whole night, but he quickly squashed it back down. He needed to be patient. It would happen in good time. He rubbed his temple and took a few deep breaths. His plans were solid, he reminded himself. He had been prepping for months after all.

"Sir, everything is in place."

Callahan glanced over at his colleague Special Agent Vallarta and nodded his dismissal. His worry dissipated and a smile grew. Hotchner may have changed his plans last minute, but no matter, he thought, things were going smoothly. He downed his champagne glass and left it on the balcony.

He touched his earpiece. "Stay on all targets and wait for my signal."

Dignitaries had trickled out throughout the late evening, and only a few remained, the Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss noticed. She looked around quickly and spotted her daughter sitting in a chair in the corner of the room next to a white marble statue. She noticed she had slipped her heels off and she sat with her legs parted, quite unladylike in her dress.

"Emily." She said, walking toward her.

Emily looked up at her mother and rolled her eyes, "Don't even start. I already suffered through Ambassador Pavlovic's _riveting_ life story, I don't even want to hear it. My feet are killing me."

The Ambassador gave her a tight smile, "There's a chaise in the lady's room for that reason, Emily. Besides, the night didn't seem_ too_ cumbersome for you- I noticed you and Special Agent Hotchner were enjoying yourselves quite nicely on the dance floor..." She trailed off, sipping her champagne as she looked elsewhere.

Prentiss shot her a dead-pan look and stood, slinging the heels over her shoulder. "It was a dance. He was giving me a break from everyone else."

Elizabeth's eyebrow's shot up, "Please Emily, I know men. There had better be nothing between the two of you. "

"I would say the same about you and the French Prime Minister, mother. It might look...quite...tacky." She said through gritted teeth. It spilled out without her thinking, and her mother squinted her eyes in suspicion.

"And when have I _ever_ seemed to cozy up to him?" She asked incredulously, though Emily noticed her hand shot up to her suprasternal notch. Hotch had taught her that was a common movement when women felt quite uncomfortable.

She certainly couldn't answer that without telling her she went on a spying escapade with her bodyguard to help gain information on a possible attack, so she opted to do what she always did as a teenager. Roll her eyes and deflect.

"Please, It's quite obvious. I grew up around politicians, mother. I'm not blind. Fortunately for you, you're a grown woman and can make your own decisions, as am I, and will continue to make mine."

They stood staring at each other in disapproval until Special Agent Manelli walked up to them and apologized for the interruption.

"Ambassador, the last of the guests have left." He stated, handing her some papers. Elizabeth took them haughtily and snapped a sharp thank you before she swiveled around and stalked off, Manelli following close behind.

Emily watched her leave, and kicked herself for opening her mouth. This wasn't going to make anything better. It was ridiculous to be told what to do in such a restrictive manner when she was a grown woman, but her relationship with her mother was starting to teeter on non-existent. Ever since she got here, she hadn't even had a meal with her. She sank into her chair gloomily and rubbed her temples. Why was this so hard? They both were so damn stubborn. She closed her eyes and massaged her temples and when she opened them she saw a pair of dress shoes standing in front of her. She gave him a weak smile.

"You okay?" Hotch asked.

Emily shook her head slowly. "I don't understand."

Hotch pulled up a chair, and slumped into it, the only thing that reflected how worn out he was. He untied his bow tie and pocketed it.

Emily batted away a few threatening tears and raised her hands up in surrender, "I just don't get it. Nothing happened tonight. My mother hates me, and all I'm trying to do is help her."

Hotch gave a small smile, "She doesn't hate you, Emily. I know for a fact she loves you. She talked about you constantly before you came. She was...quite excited you were visiting actually."

Emily scoffed, though a smile of her own began to peek through from hearing him speak her first name. She liked the way he said it. "Oh please, lying doesn't suite you."

He shook his head wearily, "I'm not." He leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees. "I think perhaps she just has a hard time expressing it when you're here. I wasn't lying when I said she talks about you often, and she bragged to the whole security staff that you were getting your degree in criminal justice."

Emily was quiet. Somehow she couldn't see her mother doing any of these things, but then again she was surprised when she had found her clay project she made when she was a child sitting on her mother's desk the other day. She hoped what Hotch said had some truth. She wanted a better relationship with her mother, but she knew it probably wouldn't happen as long as she was living at the estate. It was too confining, and too formal, and she had to be this fake persona because that was what you did in politics. She wasn't a politician. That was her mother's world, not hers.

"What was your relationship like? With your mother, I mean?" She asked suddenly.

He was thrown off by the question momentarily, and he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. He was quiet for a moment.

"She...from what I can remember, she was kind." He said, staring down at the floor searching in his memory. "She died when I was still in high school."

Emily's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sorry. I really don't have anything to complain about..." She mumbled. She could beat her head against a wall. What the hell was she bitching about? Her mother was still around at least.

Hotch gave her an admonished look, "Don't do that too yourself. Besides, it was a long time ago. Fighting with someone you care about is always complicated and hard. We argued a lot too."

"What did you argue about?"

She watched his face darken and he scratched his head, "I could never understand why she didn't want to leave my dad. He was a drunk who beat her to the point that he crushed her spirit. She was a ghost of what she used to be. When I was old enough I was able to shield her from most of it, but I never understood then why she wouldn't leave him."

"Do you understand now?" She asked. In her mind she began to understand why he was such a perfectionist. Surely it was ingrained into him at a young age for fear of upsetting his unstable father. His workaholic tendencies and candid behavior also made more sense.

"I do. He had convinced her that she wasn't good enough for anything else. He slowly secluded her from her family and friends, and controlled her through fear and submission. She did her best to raise us, despite that- and I finally understand that."

Emily nodded. "Is that why you joined the FBI?"

Hotch nodded, "One of the reasons. I saw a lot of bad cases as a prosecutor, and I could only make a difference after the fact- and sometimes I didn't have the evidence needed to convict someone, or there was some ridiculous paperwork discrepancy that would let someone walk. It was unacceptable to me so I found myself at the Bureau where I could make more of an impact...and speaking of..." He said, pulling some folded papers from inside his suit jacket, switching back to a topic he was wanting to talk to her about, "Manelli went back 6 months and found something."

Emily took the papers and rifled through them. "What are these?"

"Gear logs. Manelli found numerous inaccuracies. They never caught anyone's attention because all the proper forms were filled, but he noticed double entries in serial numbers for vehicles and weapons. The Special Agent in charge of the logs happen to be Vallarta- one of the agent's on Callahan's team." He said grimly.

In hindsight, he should have double checked the logs, but a thorough examination of them was only expected to be done once a year. It hadn't been necessary to second guess one of his agent's without cause so he hadn't caught it.

"Where would they put this stuff? They would have to stash it somewhere for quick access when the ball drops, right?" She said, handing them back to him.

"Agreed. I've tripled the amount of dog patrols on the premises to sniff out any explosive or gunpowder residue, even inside- much to your mother's dismay- and nothing's come up."

Emily closed her eyes again and rubbed her temple. She felt a massive headache approaching. She was so tired from the nights events but how could she sleep when something so huge was on the brink?

Hotch suddenly stood and offered a hand up. "You should get some sleep, come on."

She took his hand and stood, her chaffed thigh's burning. She threw him an exasperated look, "Whoever thought packing heat in a dress was a good idea, I would like to personally shoot."

He let a small chuckle out and grabbed her heels from her hand so she could pick the long skirt of her dress up off of the floor as she walked, or more like waddled. Her dark curls covered her face as she looked down making sure she wouldn't trip. She looked gorgeous. They made their way around empty tables, and wait-staff were bustling around breaking down the evening's festivities to clear everything out by the morning. He walked her to the spare room where she had gotten dressed. She refused to stay in her usual room since she found out it was bugged, not that he blamed her. He opened her door and looked around to make sure the coast was clear. He set her silver heels down on the floor and popped the closet doors open searching for anything amiss and peeked behind the drapes that framed the bedroom window.

"Are you looking for the boogeyman?" She teased, waddling into the room. She hiked her dress up higher to get to her holster, but the full A-line skirt kept getting in the way. If she had needed to draw her weapon in an emergency, there was no way she would have done it quickly. She huffed flicking the fabric all the way to one side. This was the most unpractical idea she ever came up with. What the hell had she been thinking? At least with this type of dress...

She straightened as the fabric fell back on the floor, her long hair messed up from the struggle, and stared at the man across from her. She felt like a child who couldn't zip up her jacket by herself. She pouted.

He watched her feeling amused and motioned for her to sit on the bed. She plopped down on the soft mattress defeated and drained. His calm demeanor masked his racing pulse as he turned a lamp on and knelt down, carefully hiking up the emerald green fabric. This _should_ have been an easy task, until he started futzing around with the slip, and some other layers- _why are there so many layers?_

Prentiss felt mildy better about her situation when she wasn't the only one having trouble. Finally, she felt his hands touch the holster, and brush against her thigh. She bit her lip. She heard the velcro peel off and he undid the thin strap around her waist necessary to hold the holster in place, so it wouldn't slide down her leg during the night.

Hotch took the holster off of her perfectly porcelain legs and took the Glock out making sure a round was chambered and the safety was on before placing it on the bedside table. He swallowed hard feeling the thick tension rising in the room. His dark eyes met hers. She slowly reached for his hand and brought it to her cheek. He smiled, cradling her face with both of his warm hands.

"You know I will never let anything happen to you, don't you?"

Prentiss stared into his eyes and nodded, not able to find any words. Tears began to well up in her eyes as she felt a huge weight melt off of her shoulders. She knew she could trust him to keep her and her mother safe. She loved that she wasn't treated like a damsel in distress, that he took the time in the mornings when he could peel away from his other duties to teach her defense. She appreciated how he treated her more like an equal- like they were a team. Not benching her when he found out her plans of unraveling Callahan's plot, but conspiring with her and even encouraging her.

She hadn't realized a tear had fallen until she felt his thumb brush it away and he leaned in to kiss her. She closed her eyes and melted into him. It was comforting and tender. It made her stomach flutter and she wrapped her arms around him, her fingers finding his short dark hair. She wanted to get lost in the moment, never wanting it to end...Until...it finally happened...the plan had begun.

The whole estate jolted with the violent boom that rocked the foundation to its core. The two sprang to their feet just in time to see the ceiling drywall crack and fall down around them, dust swirling around obscuring their vision. Hotch grabbed her Glock from the table and shoved the cold piece of metal into her hands, shaking her out of her shocked state. She gripped it tightly and watched as he drew his service weapon, standing to the side of the door. She swallowed hard, her wide-eyes fearful, but determined. He grabbed the doorknob, and he glanced next to her. "You ready?"

She nodded, her heart beating out of her chest.

Callahan's plan may had begun, but so had theirs.

A large explosion had rattled the Ambassador awake. She had just fallen asleep about an hour ago when her bedroom erupted in dust and debris. She would have screamed but the dust was so thick she began to cough instead and crawled out of her bed. Her whole body shook as she felt around the floor.

She heard someone crash through the door and roughly call out for her. "Ambassador, are you alright?"

She stood up slowly, her legs feeling like tentacles. "I-I'm here.." She cried out. She found her emergency go bag that the Head of Security insisted she had within her vicinity at all times, and was suddenly thankful he had the foresight for something so important, yet at the time she thought quite trivial. She slung the strap over her body and felt someone grab her shoulder.

"We gotta get outta' here!" Manelli shouted, as he heard more footsteps echo through the hallway and up the stairs. "The bathroom! Go in the bathroom!"

He pushed her into the once tastefully decorated tiled bathroom and slammed the door shut. She looked at herself in the cracked mirror and didn't even recognize herself. Dust covered her nightgown, and blood smeared her forehead. She thought she looked as if she was in a war zone.

Manelli grunted as he lifted the toilet cover off of the tank and Elizabeth stared wild-eyed as he plunged his arm into the cold water. She heard something pop, and was shocked to see part of the wall on the opposite side sink and slide to the left, revealing a hidden pathway.

"E-emily!" She shouted, grabbing Manelli's wet arm. "We have to get Emily!" Her mind finally starting to clear. What if something happened to her?

Manelli shook his head and pushed her inside the passageway. He followed her inside and closed the door with great effort. Apparently the secret pathways along the estate hadn't been used for some time, and the gears had rusted. _That's why their secret, ya dickhead, _he chastised himself. He stuck his finger to his lips as he saw her about to shout again, "Hotchner has Emily. She'll be safe with him." Manelli whispered. "For now, we have to go. There's a safe house up north set up for us already, but you have ta be quiet if we're gonna make it there, got it?"

Elizabeth nodded slightly, still not fully processing everything. "But Emily-"

"Emily will be safe. I promise. We have to go!" He whispered more urgently. The Ambassador was his responsibility. Ms. Prentiss was Hotchner's. He couldn't afford to make side trips to make sure they were okay. He had to stick to the plan.

Manelli grabbed her hand quickly and they started running through the dark pathways. He had memorized the blue prints of the secret passageways that Hotchner had given him, but he began to second guess himself. It was a lot different when it was pitch black, and particle board clattering down around you. He wondered how his boss and Ms. Prentiss was doing. Hopefully they were able to stick to the plan...

Everything seemed to have happened in slow motion. He had begun to turn the doorknob when the door suddenly exploded, the wood splintering as he was blown back. He landed on the wooden floor in a heap, and pain erupted in his chest and abdomen. He lay there shocked, and struggled to take a breath.

"Hotch!" Prentiss yelled. She raised her weapon at the agent standing in the doorway as he ejected a shell from his shotgun. She fired two rounds into his chest and he dropped with a thud. She stuck her Glock into her bra for quick access- I mean, where the hell else was she gonna put it wearing this ridiculous dress. She grabbed the shotgun strap and slung it over her shoulder, as she knelt down.

"Hotch, Hotch! Please tell me your okay!" She pleaded as she looked at his shirt for any signs of blood. She noticed bits of buckshot had peppered his legs and arms, but the door had thankfully taken most of the impact, as well as his bulletproof vest. Hotch groaned and sat up with great effort.

"M-fine." He rasped. His gun was surprisingly still in his hand and he struggled to stand, feeling a wave of lightheadedness take over. Each breath felt excruciating. He gritted his teeth as he walked stiffly to the window. Prentiss quickly wrenched the window open and they both stepped onto the balcony, closing the windows behind her.

They climbed over the balcony partition and onto the rooftop. Prentiss' feet kept sliding on the wet slated roof tiles as raindrops continued to fall. It was coming down at a slow rate, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to climb. They slid down to the lowest eave and prepared to jump. They heard the window above them shatter, and an angry face appeared in the rain.

"Kitten, where are you going?" Callahan's voice echoed on along the roof.

Hotch lowered himself quickly and landed on the slick grass, not as graceful as he was hoping. The movement jarred his bones, and another wave of white pain flashed through his chest. He did his best to ignore it and gestured for Prentiss to jump. As she lowered herself down, a piece of metal guttering sliced through her arm. She cried out and watched the blood seep out and then wash away as the rain started to fall in even sheets. She dropped down and felt Hotch's hands grab her, slowing her descent. Her soaking wet hair stuck to her face as she looked around.

"The stables are that way!" She said, pointing ahead of them as she started to run. Her bare feet splashing through the muddy grass. In the corner of her eye she noticed movement, and saw three agents converging on them. She instinctively grabbed the shotgun slung on her back and fired. The agents blew back, red mist plumed and disappeared.

She heard Hotch shoot behind her toward the other side as more agents began to surround them. Prentiss threw herself over the fence and landed on her hip. She struggled to get up as her dress was becoming heavy from the rain and mud, and her eyes widened as she quickly stepped out of the way as her bodyguard had reciprocated her movement. She helped him up, and they looked back momentarily. Floodlights had turned on the estate grounds and she could see Callahan's angry silhouette start walking toward them 50 feet away.

Hotch grabbed her hand and they ran toward the nearest lean-to in the horse pastures. Prentiss felt relieved no one had spotted the tall gray mare that she had already saddled and placed weapons and provisions in its pack earlier that day. This was all part of their plan. As she grabbed the gentle mare's reigns, worry began to bubble in her stomach.

"Do you think my mother is okay?" She asked quickly, mounting the horse with ease. She offered her hand to Hotch.

"I trust Manelli. She'll be okay." He said with difficulty, taking her hand graciously. He heaved himself up in the saddle behind her, and ignored the constant burning in his chest and side. "He'll stick to the plan."

"Hold on." She warned, kicking the horse into a trot right off the bat. The mare thundered north, toward the woods. They looked back when they heard angry shouts, and motorcycles revved up to the challenge. Headlights started weaving through an open slot in the barbed fence and mud kicked up in the air from the churning tires as they raced toward them.

Hotch grabbed his Glock and dropped the empty mag. He dug around in the saddlebags for a new one, slammed it into the mag well, and chambered a round. He found another pistol in there and grabbed it as well. Two guns were better than one.

Rounds began to whiz by as they galloped to the treeline. Prentiss had already plotted the trail they would use. Once they broke the treeline, the path was wide at first, but then bottle necked through a river. The bank on the other side had tall foliage for excellent coverage and steep hills and ravines that were littered with rock and shale. There was no way the motorcycles would be able to get through. They just had to make it to the treeline. The pasture was open with little coverage.

The horse whinnied in fear as a bike swooped in next to them, spraying mud and grass. The rain had pelted down upon them now and it was hard to see, but Hotch saw the distinctive face of Special Agent Vallarta closing in the space. Hotch fired off two shots watching Vallarta tumble off of his bike and lay in a heap. The horse slammed its front hooves into the mud and kicked its rear legs up high in the air in fear, causing them both to swear and nearly eject off the horse. Emily snapped the reigns and kicked wildly. The mare responded well by rushing into a steady gallop once again.

Hotch was seeing stars. He felt like a pinball being tossed too and fro. Again he was clueless as to why people thought this was enjoyable, but for the moment he was relieved their plan was working. Each jar and bump felt as if every bone in his body was going to break. He pushed all of this to the back of his mind as he saw the tree line. Coverage was close. Rounds again started to whiz over their heads, and they hunkered down low, Emily's chin touching the mare's mane. Hotch leaned to the side and turned around, firing off shots at another motorcycle. This time he saw the smug face of Callahan.

The agent veered his bike away momentarily, and then dipped close again narrowly missing a protruding boulder. He popped off a couple shots, but they missed their intended target.

Hotch saw sparks as his rounds ricocheted off the bike. He wiped the rain from his eyes and fired again. The horse seemed to increase in speed as they exchanged fire, and he struggled to aim as he was jostled around. He fired his last few shot and threw the guns in the saddlebag. He reached for Emily's shotgun. She lifted her arm so he could unwrap the strap from her shoulder easier and turned back around, pointing the shotgun at Callahan with one hand, the other gripping Emily's waist for balance. He felt a thud in his abdomen before he fired, and watched with satisfaction as Callahan's bike reared up in the air and impacted hard in the mud. Callahan rolled and slowly stood seething, though it was hard to tell as they got farther and farther away.

Limbs smacked the back of his head and he leaned forward to miss the rest of the branches as they seemed to whir by. Relief grew in Emily as they slowed to a trot and navigated the rocky path. They were in the treeline, and she could see the river. It would be challenging to cross, but it wasn't impossible. The horse was tall and strong.

"We're almost there." She yelled over the loud cacophony of raindrops pelting the leaves. The mare's breaths came out hard and loud. Her thighs were on fire, the mixture of rain and bare skin on leather was not cool like the movies would show. No, her thighs were rubbed raw, and each bump and bounce made it worse.

Hotch's grip on Emily's abdomen grew tighter when three more motorcycles encroached behind them. He chambered another round and pointed the shotgun behind him, a large bang exploding behind them. A bike veered off into a large tree, but two more still continued to gain ground.

Again Emily heard bullet's whizzing around them. She heard Hotch yell to hurry up. She looked back to see what was wrong and her eyes widened. She veered the horse off the path just in time as semi-automatic fire burst across the path. The terrified horse jumped over a fallen tree and weaved through the thick brush. Emily did her best to shield her face as she was whipped with branches and twigs. She could see the swelled water of the river. She urged the horse on.

"Hold on, Hotch!" She yelled. She felt time slow as her eyes widened. She watched the horses muscles tense and erupt in power as it jumped from the ledge of the bank into the river. The cold water enveloped them and shocked them back to reality. The horse struggled to cross. They were being swept downriver but Emily could tell they were getting closer and closer to the bank. Hotch kept the shotgun out of the water as best he could and looked back.

The agents dismounted their bikes and pointed their semi automatic weapons at them. Hotch covered Emily as best he could and fired off another round. The tree's splintered and the agents took cover. The horse sputtered and huffed and finally they made it to the other side.

Emily kicked the mare back into a trot. They needed distance. She could tell the horse was tiring out, so before she ran on empty she tried getting as much distance as possible. The horse weaved and stumbled through the woods. The sounds of the chaos they had left behind lessened until all they could hear were the fat raindrops splashing on their persons.

Emily looked back at Hotch, "How far away did you park the car?"

Hotch shook the rain from his face and squinted his eyes. It was so dark, it was hard to see. "I'm not sure. It should be on a service road about 3 miles south of the highway." He clenched his jaw as more of the bouncing around ignited another shot of pain in his chest and abdomen. He struggled to breathe momentarily and grabbed his torso. Hot pain stabbed through it with each jar. He looked at his hand and saw it was dark. He didn't need it to be daylight to know it was blood. _Fuck._

All he could do was apply pressure until he got to the SUV he had stashed away up there. He made sure there was plenty of weapons, medical supplies and their go bags inside before parking it up there earlier that day. He grunted as the mare tripped on a stump and almost catapulted the both of them off. The downpour of rain was so heavy it was hard to see inn front of them. Emily made an executive decision and slowed to a walk.

"We should be close."

About ten more minutes of trekking through the woods, walking up steep inclines, and tripping on rocks and stumps, they finally saw paved road. Emily breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank God."

Once she heard the clacking of horse shoes on asphalt, she was all too happy to slide off of the saddle and touch the ground. Her legs felt like jelly. She stretched her back and looked around spotting the shiny black SUV tucked in the tree's just off the road. It was like a beacon of light to lost sailors at sea. She turned around and watched Hotch slip off the saddle and his legs buckled as he landed in a heap on the road. She rushed over to him and noticed a dark stain on the left side of his shirt.

"Oh shit, you're okay, you're okay!" She said frantically, helping him up and over to the car. She opened the front door and non too gracefully shoved him in. He helped slide in, and laid back in the front passenger seat. He pulled the lever to the seat and suddenly reclined back, the quick movement giving him tunnel vision. He looked through the foggy glass and saw Prentiss take all of the tack off of the horse and throw it on the ground. She patted its nose and rushed over, heaving herself in the drivers seat. She turned the car on and looked at Hotch with worry.

"What do you want me to do?"

Hotch groaned and smacked the cigarette burner in to heat up. He tried to slow his breathing down, but he could only take shallow breaths since his run in with the shotgun blast.

"Just drive." He growled out, still holding pressure.

Prentiss bit her lip, her long frazzled, dripping hair clung to her face and shoulders What the fuck was she going to do?! She pulled the car onto the road and began to drive in any direction away from the estate. She wiped a lock of hair off of her face. Hotch was shot, her mother could be dead for all she knew and she didn't even know where the fuck the safe house was! _Breathe. _She thought, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. _Just breathe. _

The burner popped out with a click and she looked over at Hotch who didn't move. He was pale, and his breathing was irregular. She yelled his name, but he didn't seem to hear her. Water fountained away from the car as she quickly pulled it over and put it in park. She snatched the burner out of the outlet and ripped his shirt open. She pressed the hot metal coil to his wound. His eyes flew open and he yelled, hitting the window in frustration.

"I'm sorry, I've got to do the other side." She said, tears brimming her eyes.

She repeated the process to the entrance wound in his back, and had to reheat the coil and apply it to the exit wound in front to completely stem the bleeding. Her heart clenched every time he cried out, and a wave of nausea overwhelmed her from the smell of burnt flesh. If she thought he looked pale before, he looked like a ghost now. She crawled in the back seat and found a blanket. She threw it in a heap in his lap as she climbed back up to the drivers side and hopped back in her seat.

"Cover yourself up with that. Where's the safe house?" She yelled, not sure if he was going to be able to hear her.

He weakly messed with the blanket but it remained wadded up in his lap. He muttered something she couldn't understand as she drove back on the road. They still needed to get more distance from the estate. She growled in frustration as she threw the blanket over him better and she happened to look at the glove box. An idea popped in her head.

"Oh please, if you're as efficient as you usually are..." she muttered to herself and popped the glove box open.

She snatched all the papers from out of the compartment, and gasped as she realized she had drifted into another lane. An oncoming vehicle blared its horn and she swerved back over to her lane, water cascading to the side once more. Her heart pounded She couldn't take more of this. She glanced over the papers as she drove, and her heart leapt with excitement. She read an unknown address number randomly scribbled on a paper. It was his hellish-to-read handwriting. She knew that he would have wrote it down somewhere in the event he wasn't with her to tell her.

She shot him a worried look. His breaths were still shallow, but they seemed consistent. Once they reached safety she could get a closer look. She bit her lip. _Just hold on!_

_The adventure has begun! Neither will come out of this unscathed. Thank you for reviewing and I will update as soon as I can! I love hearing your feedback! Leave a review and stay tuned! _


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The dark hallway swirled with dust as Special Agent Wade Manelli and Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss hurried to the north side of the building. Manelli had congratulated the architects that had thought of such excellent forward thinking when it came to alternate exits and hideouts in the estate. They were old, no doubt if the smell of rotting wood and mold were any indication, but they continued to serve their purpose well. From what he could tell, the passageways were formed behind the estate walls and had spongy staircases that led through the basement and underground. He could tell when they were under the earth when the scent of loam filled their nostrils and large roots intertwined around the once sturdy support beams through the tunnel. The small amount of light that trickled in when they were inside the estate foundation had disappeared leaving them now in complete darkness.

"Where is this?" Elizabeth whispered, digging in her go bag she had slung over her shoulder and snapped her lighter aflame. She felt silly as a wave of guilt washed over her. She had lied to Emily about quitting smoking earlier that year in a phone call she had made when her daughter was away at university.

Emily. God she hoped she was okay. If anything happened to her...she refused to finish that sentence. Tears pricked at her eyes. She had to be okay. She remembered Manelli telling her she was in Hotchner's hands. Hotchner. That insufferably thorough man. She was often annoyed with his methods as his job would often make her job harder, but that's why she had made the young agent Head of Security. He was consistent, never took short cuts and demanded the same level of dedication he showed from the men he lead. If Emily was with him, she knew she would be okay. If that wasn't enough, Emily was a Prentiss after all. She was resourceful, smart, and independent. Just how she raised her, or perhaps...how she raised herself.

"They're emergency tunnels built when the estate was founded. They were to be used by the official's and their families in the event war or conflict broke out, and there was no other means of escaping the grounds. Only the Head of Security are allowed to know about them. That way these passages are never compromised." He informed her, walking next to her.

Manelli heard the soft taps of water drops from the ceiling pool in low areas of the dirt floor. This place gave him the heebie jeebies.

"Then how did _you_ know about them?" She asked.

"Hotch had good evidence to suspect an attack on the estate was going to happen. He started goin' over emergency procedures before the Gala and found the blue prints for these creepy ass tunnels. He gave them to me to memorize since you're the Ambassador, and I would be taking point on your safety."

Elizabeth was silent for a moment. "Who is responsible?"

He glanced at her, "I think you know full well, Ambassador."

Elizabeth clenched her jaw. Shame and guilt radiated off of her. Emily had tried to warn her. At first the accusation of Callahan gallivanting around plotting to kill her was a ridiculous notion and she had scolded her daughter for participating in tasteless gossip. But she _had _noticed a change in his demeanor. He had always been smug-even to her, but it had increased to the point he was almost talking down to her, talking to her as if she had become insignificant. He followed the strict security protocols less and less, and she noticed he left much of his usual duties to other men on his team overseeing her protection. Was it really because she passed him over for a silly promotion? She berated herself for not listening to Emily as her bare feet continued to squelch on the ground. It had started to get more muddy as the amount of water dripping from the ceiling increased.

She looked up at the agent when he noticed him stop.

"I'm not sure where this leads. Let's take an account of what weapons and gear we have before we go any further. You should take the opportunity to change into some better attire, Ambassador." He suggested, checking his weapon and his two extra mags on his person.

She nodded her agreement and rifled through her bag. He turned around to allow her some privacy and she quickly changed out of her nightgown. She peeled it off and dust billowed from the fabric causing her to break out into a cough. She donned on some jeans, boots and a blouse and handed the bag to Manelli once she was finished.

He began to sift through the bag finding a knife, 7 extra mags and a flashlight. His spirits raised and he smiled when he saw this. "Thank you, baby Jesus!" He said excitedly. He clicked it on and looked at the ceiling to get a better view. "Welcome to the 21st. Century, Ambassador. You can put your lighter away."

Elizabeth smiled wearily but it quickly disappeared when muffled footsteps echoed down the tunnel. She met Manelli's fearful face.

"Ah, shit..."

…...

Rain continued to pelt the slightly foggy windshield as the tires crunched along the curvy gravel road. They had almost arrived to the safe house, which looked to be an ordinary cabin, slightly run down and tucked away in thick woods. It almost had a serial killer vibe.

She glanced over at Hotch for what seemed the thousandth time. She didn't realize the drive was going to take this long, and she knew they were no where near Paris anymore. Once she pulled up to the covered porch, she stumbled out of the car and rushed to the other side, rain peppering her now damp frizzy hair. She wrenched the passenger door open and shook him to try and wake him.

"Hotch! Hotch we're here! Wake up, we need to get you inside!" She yelled, his head lolling back and forth. "Come on! I don't know what to do!" She whispered frantically. "What do I do?!"

After a few moments she squashed the fear down when she realized she was on her own for the moment and smoothed her hair back from her face. "Okay, okay." She said numbly to herself. She needed to get him out of the car, up the steps and into the cabin. "Just hold on!" She shouted, splashing through the mud in her tattered dress. The porch steps groaned under her weight and she checked to see if the door was open. The doorknob didn't budge. She stood on her toes and brushed the door molding with her fingers for any signs of a key. She came up empty, unless you counted the splinter she just acquired. She bent down and tossed the door mat to the side and still found no key.

She growled in frustration, "Fuck it!"

She threw her weight into the door. It groaned under the sudden assault encouraging her to continue to smash her shoulder into it. After the fifth time, she felt it give. The frame splintered and the door opened freely. She quickly caught herself before she fell and made her way back down the steps and back to the car.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the car. His body limply splashed in the mud. She wiped the rain from her face, squatted down and looped her arms under his and began to drag him toward the porch with much difficulty. Her feet sank deeper and deeper into the mud, each step she took sounded like a suction cup. She made it to the first step and heaved him up. She accidentally leaned too far back and fell backwards. She scooted herself up the last step and heaved him all the way up. She took a couple of moments to breathe and stood back up- her legs screaming.

"Why the_ fuck _are you so heavy!" She breathed out in anger. Anger for the situation, or anger for feeling so weak, she wasn't sure which. She imagined her mother berating her for using un-lady like language. _Piss off._

"We're almost there..." She told herself. She looped her arms once more around his chest and lifted, dragging him into the cabin. She noticed his shoe pop off as it caught on the stair. Even though the situation was frightening, she found herself chuckling like a mad woman as she thought how much more serial killer-ish the place looked as she dragged Hotch's body through the yard and into the house.

She tried to lay him down gently on the planked floor, but her legs finally gave out and they both dropped with a thud. She fought a minute to catch her breath. She stood and wobbled over to a light switch to turn on some lights, and wasn't at all shocked when nothing happened. She made her way into the dusty kitchen and found a candle on the table. The whole place was reminiscent of an early 1900s farmers cabin. No modern amenities littered the counters...not even a toaster. She spotted a short stubby candle and shook her head in disbelief.

"Welcome to the dark ages, Emily." She muttered, rummaging through the drawers to find something to light it.

Finally she found a pack of matches and hurried back to Hotch. She knelt down next to him and lit the candle. It gave off just enough light to be irritating. She had to squint to really see anything, but it was better than nothing. It would be hours before dawn anyway.

She slipped his jacket and dress shirt off impatiently and finally was able to see his wounds clearly. A collage of black, blue's and purple's painted his entire chest from the shotgun blast, and she felt unevenness along both sides of his ribs. She was no doctor, but she would bet all her college credits that his ribs were broken and that's why, _hopefully, _he was breathing so shallow and irregular. The gunshot wound had stopped bleeding externally she was relieved to see, but the bruising around it was concerning. How much was too much? Was he still bleeding internally? What if he was? What should she do? Was there anything she could do?

She looked at her trembling fingers. She took a few deep breaths. She told herself to focus on the things she knows she can fix. Bruising? No. Broken ribs...Nope. She bit her lip. She never felt so inadequate in her life. Ah! But she could start taking out all the bits of buckshot that was embedded all over his skin..._that_ was something.

"Okay...utensils..." She mumbled, returning to the kitchen with the aide of her candle to light the way. She spotted some dusty utensils and thought out of the usual culprits a butter knife would serve best. She also grabbed a chipped bowl from the cupboard and walked back outside. She rinsed it with the runoff water from the roof and filled it up, rinsed the knife and returned to his side.

She was about to start popping buckshot out of his skin when she grimaced and thought better of it as she started heating the knife under the candle's flame.

"Yeah, Typhoid Mary. Give him an infection while your at it." _Stupid..._

…_..._

Callahan was furious as he stalked through the halls of the eerily quiet estate, stepping over bits of rubble. How could this have happened!? His perfect plan ruined by inepts! He should have relied on only himself to do the job since everyone else seemed to fuck everything up. Only he could do anything right.

His face was red as he spotted a few agent's bodies scattered around the blast sight. He felt his veins pop in his forehead.

"Idiots."

How many times did he tell them to be careful with the explosives. He gritted his teeth as he replayed the past few hours in his head. The explosives ignited accidentally, much too early for Callahan's liking. His men weren't in position at the time of the explosion, the Ambassador had disappeared into thin air, and Hotchner and Emily had escaped.

Escaped, they had. They had planned counter measures in advance. He didn't expect that out of Emily. For as long as he had known her, she had always been feisty. Yes. But reactive...not in the slightest. Surely this was due to Hotchner personally overseeing her safety. He was a very diligent man. This concerned him. This wasn't part of his plans. He was supposed to have killed the silly excuse of an Ambassador, revel in the pleasure of slitting that Brooklyn agent's throat open after he had the audacity to slam him up against the wall, and was only too keen on painting the estate with Hotchner's blood.

He felt his fury rise more. Hotchner, he spat. How the fuck did he get the position? He had slaved away catering to the Ambassador's every pathetic need for years. He was a picture of excellence! How did she not see that? How could she have so easily forgotten someone as great as he?! Why could no one see his talent.

No matter, he thought. It was their mistake. Every agent who wasn't with him was now dead. He made sure to do that personally. He was on his way to kill the Ambassador when he noticed she was gone- and conveniently, so was Manelli who had been attached to her hip all evening after Hotchner had derailed his meticulous plans on overseeing the Ambassador's well being.

"Sir, we think we know how the Ambassador escaped."

Callahan cocked his head in delight and grinned, "Then go get her. Bring them both to me. Alive."

…...

Manelli growled in frustration as he heard the approaching enemy and snatched Elizabeth's hand, breaking into a dead run. The farther they ran, the water that dripped down from the ceiling became steadier and soon enough they were sloshing through knee deep water. The beam of light shook around trying to find any other pathways and once they turned a corner, Manelli jerked her to the wall and stopped.

He slipped his Glock from its holster and gave the Ambassador the flashlight.

"I'll keep em' busy. You need to keep runnin' until the path T's. Go left, and that will lead you to the exit." He breathed out.

Elizabeth looked panicked and shook her head vehemently. "N-no! I can't leave you!" She would have liked to think she refused to leave his side because she had mustered what little bit of courage she had and decided to fight alongside him, but deep down she knew it was because she was scared of being alone. _How pathetic._

He roughly pushed her forward, "Go!" He shouted.

She stumbled forward and quickly rushed into the dark. _Coward. _Tears streamed down her face as she continued to push through the knee deep murky water below. Her go bag around her shoulder sagged heavy and she struggled to stay at a steady pace. Gunshots echoed through the tunnel and she whimpered. More adrenaline kicked in allowing her to quicken her pace as she saw the tunnel T and she turned left.

Her mind whirled with darkening thoughts. What if there was no exit? What if it was caved in, or worse underwater? She glanced down and noticed the water was creeping up to her waist. She swalllowed hard and let out a shaky breath. "You're okay, Elizabeth..."

The light illuminated far down the tunnel path and soon she realized she saw stairs! Ten or fifteen stairs that led up to the top. Her pace quickened even more and at one point she opted to swim the rest of the way in hopes she would get out of this hell faster. Her cold fingertips touched the first wooden step and it creaked as she pulled herself up. She looked back the way she came for a moment hoping to see the agents familiar face and was disappointed when she was met with the constant darkness that had surrounded them for hours it had seemed.

She felt as undignified as she had ever been as she finished climbing the stairs on all fours, her go bag catching on every step. She didn't even care at this point. She brushed her wet brown bangs from her face and pointed her flashlight up to the ceiling. A large steel hatch with a twist lever hung menacingly above her, a foot away from her nose. She touched the door and looked at her orange fingers. The door had rusted from many rainstorms past she realized with dismay. She wrapped her hands around the lever and she used whatever strength she had left to twist the handle. She let out an exasperated breath and noticed it hadn't even budged.

For the next ten minuted she pulled, twisted, and clawed at the door willing it to move. Tears burst from her eyes and she slowly began to realize how bleak her future was becoming. How many years had she wasted away learning politics and smooth talking, so many hours of fancy speeches and endless hours of rehearsing notes only for her life to dwindle down to being stuck in a dark tunnel with muddy walls and the deafening drops of water, and no one even knew these passageways existed...

Her vision blurred from her tears as she thought of Emily. Was she hurt? Was she scared? What if the last thing she said to her were the scowling words of contempt she had said to her as the evening had dwindled down. It seemed so trivial now. Her heart sunk as she realized she may never get the chance to apologize. Would her daughter know she was proud of her? That she had become a lady of dignity and prowess. Elizabeth always scolded her because of her fiery adventurous spirit; the same fiery spirit that she had squashed within herself so many years ago to pursue her political career. Emily came by it honestly. If she was honest with herself, she had realized she was jealous of the freedom and resilience Emily showed to achieve her dream.

She snapped out of her thoughts as she heard splashing. Her heart thundered in her chest. She had no way escaping! She frantically looked around for a weapon anything to protect herself with! She unzipped the bag and rummaged around her clothes, repeatedly looking from the bag and to the source of the splashes getting closer and closer.

An angry muttering and flushed face greeted her and she breathed a sigh of relief. Manelli looked none to happy swimming through the water holding his Glock up to keep it as dry as possible, but with the shower of groundwater seeping through the ceiling it didn't really matter.

"Manelli!" She shouted, helping him up onto the stairs. His suit was soaked, and his shoes squelched on the planked stairs.

"I thought I told you to get the hell outta' here!" He yelled, climbing up to the door.

"I-it's rusted I can't get it open!" She yelled back over the sound of the water.

He grunted as he pulled on the lever. He motioned for her to help and both of them cranked on the lever until finally they felt it budge. It groaned as they felt it unlock. Manelli pushed the door up with all his might and the door slowly opened, dirt and debris sprinkling onto his face.

The rain pelted down on his face and he had to look down as he opened it the rest of the way. The smell of mud and fresh air was quite welcome compared to the dank and stale air they had been subjected to. Manelli helped the Ambassador out of the opening and she slid along the muddy turf. She laid down on the grass and let the raindrops fall on her face.

Manelli stood and rested his hands on his hips. The tree's swayed as the rain rocked the leaves, and the darkness made it hard to see their exact location. He strained his eyes to see. How far had they walked through the tunnels? He brushed his short bangs from his face. He reached down with an open hand expectantly. Elizabeth relinquished the flashlight and he turned it off.

"We can't risk being seen, Ambassador. From here on out we walk in darkness."

Elizabeth sat up with great effort and wearilly nodded. "How do we know where to go? It's so dark."

Manelli tapped his watch, thankful it was waterproof. "It's got a compass on it." He pushed the little button at the top to illuminate the face and obtain his bearings. "Seems like its working..."

Elizabeth watched the agent turn around and shuffle a little until he seemed satisfied.

"Ambassador, we may make it out of here yet if we stick to this friggin' plan. How 'bout we get the fuck outta' dodge? Pardon my french."

Elizabeth nodded and grabbed his outstretched hand. Manelli walked back over to the hatch and lifted it up with great effort and then pushed it over. "We need to cover our tracks and get as much distance between them as we can. We'll keep northeast and head to the safe house."

She wiped the mud away from her arms as much as she could. "We'll stick to the plan."

…...

Prentiss' eyes cracked open as sunlight began to peek through the dingy lace curtains. She looked around the room confused until all of the events that had transpired earlier had come crashing down and she brushed back her damp hair. She sat up slowly. Her whole body felt like lead, like she had been hit by a dump truck. She looked down at the man before her she brushed his sweat soaked bangs from his forehead. Thankfully a little color had returned and he didn't look so ashen anymore, so she chalked that up to a success. She placed a hand back on his forehead. He was still burning up.

She winced as she stood, her legs screaming at her reminding her of the abuse she put them through the night before. She looked down at her once beautiful dress examining it. It was tattered and stained with mud. She blankly stared at it for awhile, her mind feeling woozy. She needed to change clothes. Clothes...Where to find some clothes. Her eyes snapped open and remembered the bags still in the car. She exited the house and retrieved the bags. There were three total. She slung one over each shoulder and dragged the last one on the ground up to the house. Once back inside the house she dropped them on the floor with a loud thud. She looked at Hotch and was disappointed when she didn't even see him move. He was going to be out cold for awhile.

Her chest tightened as she missed the playful banter they would shoot back and forth. He had such a dry sense of humor that often she would roll her eyes, but she now found she wanted to hear it. Hear his voice. His deep confident voice that made her feel safe and encouraged her to be herself.

She closed the door as best she could, after all she did break the frame when she broke in. The rain had seemed to stop for now but she could smell the precipitation in the air close by. She wouldn't doubt if it rained some more.

She turned back to Hotch. What to do? What to do? First she decided to peel off her ratty dress and stepped into a change of her clothes from her bag. Even without a shower she almost felt human again.

Emily then walked through the small cabin now that more light was trickling. She realized they had been laying in the living room adjacent from an old stone fireplace on a thinly woven rug. The living room connected to the small kitchen she had seen earlier and noticed a small dusty wooden table with four chairs and another thin rug underneath it. She made her way down a narrow hallway and saw a small bathroom lined with the weathered pine that covered the rest of the floor and walls of the cabin. A stand alone tub sat under a dingy window with random odds and ends laying inside. Obviously it had been abandoned long ago, but she thought it was pretty rundown even for government standards. It was a safe house they owned, the least they good do was make sure the power worked. She made it to the end of the hallway and saw the bedroom. It had a window and what looked to be a full size bed with a quilt that looked as if it would fall apart if she touched it. A thick layer of dust had settled on it from the years of neglect. She touched the antique looking light switch and was not surprised when nothing happened. She made a mental note to check outside for a breaker box later. First of all, she needed to move Hotch from the floor to something more comfortable...and clean.

She sighed. This was such a bizarre summer vacation. Here she was at a serial killer cabin with the man she really liked unconscious on the floor, looking for a broom like it was the most natural thing in the world. Nothing about her school break so far had been normal. Ever since she stepped foot on estate ground her life had changed dramatically.

She cracked the window open in the bedroom and set to work. The misty air felt refreshing being in the stuffy cabin, and she welcomed the cool breeze. She bundled up all the linens and shook and beat them all out, tipped the mattress on its side and beat the dust out of that, and swept the floor. Once she felt the linens were as dust free as they were going to get she made the bed. Thankfully the linens just smelled stuffy- she could live that.

Finally satisfied with a cleaner room, she made her way over to Hotch and knelt down. She gently shook him to rouse him out of his unconscious state. She watched as his face screwed up in pain.

"Hotch, let's get you in bed." She whispered, then felt dumb afterwards. Why was she whispering? There wasn't a soul for miles.

She watched his eyes sluggishly open. They were glossy from the fever. His breathing had been continuously shallow and irregular, but it was worse when he was awake. She slowly helped him sit up on the floor and she thought he had passed out again, until he weakly opened his eyes again once the wave of pain subsided.

"I'll help you stand. It's just down the hall."

It was a slow and painful process but finally they made it to the bed. She guided him down to the bed as gently as she could. It squeaked with the sudden weight and Prentiss feared the bed would collapse, but when it stayed strong she let out a sigh of relief.

After helping him into some clean and dry clothing- which had been a none to easy process- and filled the bowl she had used earlier with cold water. She used a clean shirt of hers to dip into the cool water and laid it over his head. Isn't that what they did in the movies? She hoped it would help. Her eyes drooped heavy, but she willed them open. She couldn't sleep quite yet. She stood wearily and made her way outside to the car. She needed to move it somewhere it wasn't so easily spotted. She thought the chances of Callahan finding them were slim, but why make it easier on them?

She had moved the SUV in a dilapidated shed a few yards behind the serial killer cabin. Once she shut the doors she walked tenderly along the muddy grass. Her bare feet were so sore and blistered from the recent events that she chastised herself for not slipping some shoes on from her go-bag. Her brain was sluggish, it wasn't working properly. She almost felt as if she were in a dream.

The early morning rays of sun barely peeked through the clouds, still being smothered by the angry dark clouds threatening to pour more rain down. It was almost beautiful in a way. She looked at a twisted and thin tree. It's leaves were richly green. What was she doing out here again?

She smacked her head. _Focus, Prentiss. _Surely the electrical box would be around the exterior somewhere, right? She made another lap around the house in case she had missed it the first time, but unfortunately it wasn't making itself known. Power would have to wait. She made her way back in the house and in the bedroom. She collapsed on the bed next to Hotch.

She felt surprised when she saw his dark eyes were open.

"You look like shit." He said, barely audible.

Prentiss gave him a small smile. "You don't have much room to talk."

He cracked a grin, but it quickly melted into a grimace. "I feel...like I've been hit by a train."

"Don't talk." She hushed gently, rolling over to face him. She brushed his bangs out of his eyes. "Just rest."

"Where are we?" His eyelids were so heavy, but he couldn't place his surroundings.

"Close your eyes and I'll tell you."

They immediately drooped closed and within minutes she could tell he was asleep again, but she still kept her end of the deal.

"Well...we are in a creepy, dark, and archaic cabin whose previous occupants were probably related to Jeffrey Dahmer. In other words, we are up shit creek without a paddle, but for the moment we're safe, and that's enough for me..." She muttered before she welcomed the gentle cradle of darkness promising sleep.

_Thank you so much for reading this last chapter! I meant to finish it up earlier but, I have been doing quite a bit of OT at work. I hope you all enjoy and stay tuned! Now that they've reached the safe house, everything will be okay right? WRONG. _


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